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dark-fics-4-you · 3 days ago

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Blue Christmas

dark!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), p in v sex, kidnapping, murder, drugging, stalking, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, choking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, abusive behavior

A/N: this fic is directly inspired by the movie P2 (2007) but I changed a couple plot things to make it fit for Rafe. Hope you enjoy!

The click of your heels echoed throughout the large, empty parking garage. You let out a frigid puff of breath as you shivered, pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders as you looked for your car.

After the holiday party had died down, you had volunteered to stay late to finish up a report so you could have Christmas day off with your family. And now, a full hour and a half after everyone else left, you were finally about to be on your way home.

You reached into your purse to fish your keys out, clicking the unlock button to help you find your car.

Chirp chirp!

The sound came from the level above you and you let out a small groan as you began the walk up to the next level.

After spotting your car, you let yourself in, sliding into the seat and closing the door behind you.

You slid the key into the ignition and turned it, but instead of coming to life, your engine stuttered, refusing to start.

“Shit!” You cursed, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. “Fucking seriously?!”

All you wanted right now was to get home to see your family, but now it appeared your car might not even be leaving the garage.

You reached into your purse to pull your phone out, dialing your mom, but when no sound came over the speaker, you pulled the phone away from your ear to realize that you didn’t have any signal.

Realizing that your only options were to find the parking security guard or walking out into the cold air to get better signal, you decided that you needed to find the parking office.

However, before you could even open your door, you saw the lights on the opposite side of the garage begin to turn off, one by one, growing closer until you were swallowed by the darkness of the garage.

“I’m still in here!” You shouted, feeling freaked out by the dark.

But the sudden sharp knock against your window nearly stopped your heart.

A bright flashlight flicked on, pointed at your face like the person was trying to get a look at you.

He must have seen the fear in your eyes because the light lowered to the ground, revealing the parking security guard, and you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar face.

“Thank god it’s just you,” you joked nervously as you opened your car door to step out.

You looked up at the tall, blond man, remembering the many times he had let you in the parking garage or waved goodbye as you drove out. He was a shy and somewhat awkward guy, but he had been nice in all of your previous interactions.

Underneath the nerdy looking glasses, you might have even considered him handsome.

“I’m glad you’re still here so late, or I’d be in a lot of trouble,” you groaned, gesturing to your car. “It won’t start and I don’t have any signal in the garage.”

“Ah that h-happens here more than you’d think, I can help you out,” he grinned, taking a cursory glance at your car. “You could um- make a call from the office, if you wanted.”

“Oh that would be perfect! Thanks um… Ray?”

“Rafe,” he corrected you with a lopsided smile.

“Oh. Rafe, sorry,” you repeated. “My name is Y/N.”

“I know.”

“You do?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion as you looked up at him.

“You hand me your parking pass every day, remember? Everyone who works in the office does,” he smiled.

“Oh yeah, true,” you let out a small laugh.

“Did you enjoy th-the party?”

You blushed, smiling to yourself as you remembered your coworker, Jack, pulling you into one of the empty offices for a quick make out session. This was the first time the two of you had ever done something so risky at the office before, and it had been pretty thrilling.

“Yeah, it was nice. I’m ready to get home to my family though, they’re all waiting on me.”

“Then we better call you a taxi, huh?”

“Guess so.”

You followed him as he lead you to the parking office, and your eyes widened as you took in the sparkling Christmas lights that were wrapped around the small space.

“Did you do all of this decoration yourself, Rafe?”

“Uh yeah,” his lips curled into a shy smile and he scratched the back of his head nervously. “I don’t know, it just brightens the place up. Makes the job less depressing.”

“Oh yeah, I totally get it.” You sat down at the chair opposite from his desk, mindlessly glancing over at the monitor that was showing multiple grainy camera angles throughout the garage, cycling through all the cameras throughout the building.

You looked over at the corner of the office to see a large black dog curled up on a bed.

“So, here’s the office phone,” he passed the landline to you. “I’m gonna step out for a quick smoke, you can uh, call your family or a cab, or um whatever you need to do. I’ll be b-back in a couple minutes.”

“Okay! Thank you so much for your help!” You smiled, waving as he stepped out the front door of the office.

You dialed your mom’s number, holding the phone to your ear as you waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” You could barely hear your mother’s voice over the sounds of children playing.

“Mom? It’s Y/N.”

“Where are you?? We’ve been waiting for an hour at this point sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, I had a little extra work to do tonight so I could spend all of tomorrow with you. And you’ll never guess what happened when I left the office.”

“What?”

“My car wouldn’t start! So I’m waiting in the security office and I’m going to call a cab,” your mother started to interject, but you cut her off, “don’t wait up on me. I’ll get there soon hopefully, but with this weather it might take a bit for the cab to get here.”

Your mom was saying something about sending your aunt to pick you up, and you waved her off, but when your gaze landed on the monitor’s camera feed, your blood went cold and the ringing in your ears prevented you from hearing anything.

Your eyes widened as you watched Jack open the office door building on the camera feed, pulling you inside, leaving only a moment before his lips were on your neck, and his hands were trailing down your body.

Your stomach lurched when you heard yourself softly moan his name before his lips covered yours.

This video was from earlier tonight.

“Y/N?” Your mom asked and you realized you had gone silent.

“I-” your mouth felt dry, your mind was racing, but you knew you needed to call the cab as soon as possible. “I’m calling the cab now.”

You hung up quickly, looking behind you and around the now cramped feeling office for the security guard.

Would it be safe to leave the office? How would you find your way out quickly with the lights off?

He was nowhere in sight, so you dialed the number of the cab company, hand shaking as you held the phone to your ear and cursing when it kept ringing with no answer.

Finally after what felt like an eternity, someone picked up.

“Hello? Please, I need a cab at 9876 Main Street.”

“How many passengers?”

“Just one, please hurry,”

“We’ll be there in under 5 minutes.”

You let out a sigh of relief, you were finally going home.

However, you were shocked back into reality when a hand suddenly clamped over your mouth, pressing a damp rag over your nose and mouth.

You let out a muffled yelp, struggling against them, but the strong arm that wrapped around your chest held you firmly in place.

You had only taken three gasping breaths before the world around you grew fuzzy, and then your vision went black.

Your eyes cracked open slowly and you lifted your aching head to find yourself still inside the security guard’s office, laid out on the couch. A chill ran up your spine and your noticed your coat was missing.

Rafe was sitting at his desk with his back turned to you, watching the video of you and Jack on a loop.

You let out a soft whimper of fear, shifting to stand up and try to run out of the room, but you quickly realized your right wrist was handcuffed to the sofa when it dug into the skin of your wrist, pulling you back down onto the couch.

The clinking of the metal alerted Rafe to the fact that you were awake and he turned around, a sick grin spreading across his face.

“You’re up! Sorry about all that with the rag and stuff,” he chuckled, acting as if it was some run of the mill accident.

His casual ease as he looked over you sent a chill down your spine.

You didn’t miss the fact that his large dog was awake now, sitting beside him and staring you down imposingly.

“Also, I um- I cancelled your cab,” he told you and your heart skipped a beat.

“W-why?”

“Well… I thought maybe you’d want to spend your Christmas Eve with me,” Rafe nervously offered.

You blinked at him in shock, at a complete loss for words.

“W-we could get to know each other, and finally have our first date.” Rafe stood up from the chair and approached you, and you shrank away from him.

“Listen, Rafe..” you swallowed dryly, heart hammering against your chest as you carefully chose your words, “I- I’m sure you’re a really nice guy, but I’m already seeing somebody.”

There was a deadly silence at your words and Rafe’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening in a way that made you nervous.

His dog noticed the subtle change in his attitude, a low growl building at the back of its throat and he slowly started to walk towards you.

“Easy Max,” Rafe warned, his tone cold and mocking. “Don’t wanna scare poor Y/N too much.”

The dog backed off at that, laying down in his bed, but still eyeing you suspiciously.

Rafe sat beside you on the couch, one arm wrapping around your waist and you shuddered at the physical contact.

“Listen, Y/N, just give me a chance okay? Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“I-” you stuttered nervously, your mind too blank with fear to know what to say. “I have t-two siblings.”

You tripped over your words, face warming up when you felt his hand slowly begin to trace up your back.

“Keep going,” he ordered with a whisper, his hand rising to the rest at the back of your neck. Your pulse was racing and your breath was beginning to grow uneven with tension.

“I’m f-from a town 40 minutes from here. I’ve never ah-” you winced when his fingers flexed slightly, putting you even more on edge. “I’ve never lived outside of the state.”

“Really? That’s incredible. Me personally, I’m from North Carolina, but I’ve traveled all over the world.”

His eyes flicked from your face to your chest, eyeing the way your breath was coming quickly. He grinned wickedly, drawing so close you could feel his breath against your cheek.

“Am I making you nervous, Y/N?”

He adjusted his hand, wrapping his thumb and pointer finger around the back of your neck while his other fingers splayed down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Would you feel more at ease if I was Jack?” Rafe spat his name out like it was poison in his mouth and you winced.

“N-no. I- I don’t- no,” you whimpered, not sure what he wanted to hear from you.

This night had taken a turn that you never expected and your head was still spinning as you tried to come to terms with what was happening.

Rafe let out an annoyed huff, a scowl blooming across his face as he stared at you.

“Do you want to see him again tonight?”

“What?”

“I said, do you want to see him again tonight?”

“I-” you stuttered, but you trailed off, not knowing what he meant or how to answer.

Rafe rolled his eyes, clearly growing irritated by your indecisiveness. He turned to find something on his desk before returning to you with a key in one hand and a small knife in the other.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the knife, your breathing picking up as you looked to him in fear.

“What-?”

“I’m going to unlock you and we’re going to take a short drive, but I can’t have you getting any smart ideas, sweetheart.” Rafe grabbed your cuffed wrist, jamming the key into the lock on the cuff that was attached to the sofa.

He grabbed your wrist tightly with one hand, pulling you off the couch and turning you away from him before reaching over your shoulder and bringing the knife to your throat.

He leaned forward, letting his lips come to your ear and you held back a shudder as he spoke, “if you so much as think about trying to get away from me, I won’t hesitate to kill you, do you understand?”

You nodded, choking down your tears as he pushed you forward to signal you to walk out of the office.

Rafe led you to a car, opened the door, and shoved you inside, giving you a warning glare to not run before walking around to the driver’s side.

“W-where are we going?” You asked as he started the car and backed out of the parking space.

“You’ll see, sweetheart.”

He turned towards the exit of the garage, and for a moment you could feel your escape within your grasp, but he steered away, instead steering towards the ramp that led to the lower levels of the garage.

“W-we’re not leaving?” You could feel your heartbeat pick up again in your confusion. Where the fuck was he taking you?

“We’re almost there, Y/N, calm down.”

Your eyes scanned the dark garage, but they widened when he turned the corner, his headlights revealing Jack duck taped to one of the office chairs.

“Oh my god,” you whispered in shock, taking in the blood that was already dripping from his forehead. Jack shifted in the chair, his eyes squinting as he tried to look through the windshield.

“What’s going on Rafe?? Why are you doing this?” You hissed through tears, frantically looking back and forth between Rafe and Jack.

He chuckled, but it lacked humor and you felt nauseous at the sound.

“Don’t you get it, Y/N?” His hand came to your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I love you so much, and he’s what’s keeping us apart.”

Now you were almost certain you were going to be sick and you let out a sob as his thumb lightly traced your face.

“I- I don’t even know you, Rafe! I barely knew your name before tonight,” you cried hysterically, begging him to find reason. “Please, whatever you’re planning, just stop!”

You couldn’t stop the burning tears from falling now, anxiety making your heart beat so fast you felt dizzy.

“Shh Y/N, calm down.” He wiped away some of your tears with his thumb. His blue eyes watched you with concern, but there was a coldness underneath the surface that frightened you.

“I’m gonna take care of it, okay? And he’s never going to come between us again.”

Before you could question him, he closed the gap between you, holding you in place as his lips covered yours.

Your eyes shot open in surprise, stomach turning in disgust as you squirmed against him, and you whimpered when he forced his tongue into your mouth. His lips felt hot against yours and the kiss lasted too long, as Rafe held you down against the chair by your throat until you were gasping for breath.

He pulled away with a dreamy look in his eyes as he scanned your distressed expression.

“Do not try to run. Got it?”

You stared at him blankly, taking a beat too long to respond and his hand tightened around your throat.

“Got it?” He repeated with a sickening edge to his voice.

“Mm, mm hm,” you nodded, mouth too dry to make any noises other than humming yes.

“Good girl,” he purred, leaning forward to press one last kiss to your trembling cheek before reaching over to open his door and climb out.

You were glued to your seat, too scared to attempt running with him still so close. You could barely watch as he approached Jack with the knife brandished in his hand.

“Please- stop it! Don’t get any closer!” Jack cried out and your heart skipped a beat, more tears sliding down your face was you watched with horror.

“You were never good enough for Y/N, you know that?” You could hear the rage in Rafe’s voice simmering beneath the surface, ready to be released.

“Always taking her for granted and treating her like she’s some everyday slut.” He spat, pulling his arm back before punching James hard across the jaw.

You stifled your cry by biting your lip, trying to ignore Jack’s groans of pain when Rafe punched him again.

“Rafe, stop it!” You cried from inside the car and he turned around to look at you before punching him in the stomach with a grin.

“She may not understand what kinds of tricks you’re pulling, but I do.” He slammed his fist into James’ gut again. “I know guys like you, who get off on playing nice girls like Y/N and treating them like shit.”

“No- I’m not-” Jack grunted, blood trickling past his lips as he struggled to breathe. He strained against the layers of duck tape wrapped around his chest and the back of the chair to no avail.

“And I’m sure you look down on the guys like me. You think you’re so much better because you went to college and got a comfy, corporate job, and assholes like you always get the girl in the end,” Rafe’s voice was downright venomous at this point, and you could tell that he was working himself up to a boiling point.

“Not this time,” he chuckled darkly, bringing the knife to Jack’s throat threateningly.

“Rafe please!” You screamed, tears flowing down your cheeks as you watched the scene before you unfold, feeling utterly powerless.

In one smooth motion, Rafe brought the knife across Jack’s throat and a river of crimson sprayed from his neck, splattering across Rafe’s face and clothes.

You sobbed as Jack slumped against the chair, his head leaning back to reveal the large cut splayed across his throat, and you knew in your heart that he was dead.

Before you could think twice, your hand was wrapped around the door handle, and you pushed yourself out of the car.

The garage was almost pitch black, save for Rafe’s headlights and you didn’t notice the cement wedge in front of you.

“Shit-!” You cursed as you hit the ground, adrenaline too high to register any pain from the fall.

You turned your head as you scrambled to your feet to find Rafe’s angry gaze fixed in your direction. Heart pounding, you stumbled to your feet and took off towards where you remembered him turning from the ramp to the upper levels, the sounds of your heels echoing off the walls of the parking garage.

“Fuck!” You heard Rafe roar from behind you followed by the sound of him hitting something hard in frustration, likely his car, before you heard his heavy footsteps chasing after you.

“Y/N!!” He yelled, his voice reverberating and repeating as he cursed.

Knowing that this was likely your only chance to escape, you frantically looked around for an exit once you got onto the ground floor, only to find that it was gated off, and there was no way for you to leave.

When you passed a second exit that was gated off, you realized Rafe must have closed them all down to keep you inside and your heart fell.

“Where are you hiding?” Rafe’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you could tell he was getting closer.

If you were going to escape, you weren’t going to be able to do it alone.

You could hear his footsteps getting closer behind you in the dark, and you tried to quiet your shaky breath as you ran to the brightly lit office, hiding behind the support pillars along the way.

Even if he caught you in the office, if you could just make a call to the police, hopefully that would be enough to save you.

You finally reached the front, pushing the door open slowly and quietly before crouching and entering.

Unfortunately, in your panic to get away, you had forgotten all about Rafe’s large dog, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when he ran up to you, barking and lunging, only to be yanked back by his chain at the last moment before reaching you.

Your heart rate spiked as the dog growled loudly in between sharp ruffs, barring his teeth and trying to nip at you.

“Shhh!” You whispered. “Good doggie, please be quiet!”

You eased past the dog and towards the landline, trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking in your knees as Max continued to bark.

Images of Jack’s throat being slit flashed through your mind and you choked back a sob as you reached for the phone.

Your sweaty fingers slid over the numbers and you held the phone up to your ear waiting for the ring.

But it never came.

You pulled the phone away from your ear in confusion, and looked down at the handset, following the wire connected to the phone to where it should have been plugged into the wall.

Instead, you stared at the severed wire in terror, realizing that Rafe must have cut it while you were knocked out earlier.

“Why are you trying to ruin our first date?”

Rafe’s voice from behind washed over you like a bucket of cold water, and you slowly turned around to find him standing in the doorway of the office.

He was an imposing figure, made all the more terrifying due to the flecks of blood painted across his face and shirt. His glasses were gone now, and you realized just how much they had been hiding the threatening glint in his eyes.

Rafe no longer seemed like the shy, nerdy guy you had taken him for before tonight, but instead a dangerous predator who had finally cornered his prey.

“Rafe,” your voice was so faint you weren’t sure if you were even speaking. “Please, I’m scared.”

Your throat felt tight, tears filling your eyes when you noticed the blood on his hands.

“Scared?” He asked incredulously. “You should be thanking me for getting that loser out of our way.”

A sob clawed its way out of your throat, and you took a step back, only to jump forward again when the dog’s low growl came from behind you.

“Now it’s time to stop running,” Rafe taunted.

You felt dizzy with fear as you watched him step closer, towering above you, the outline of his muscular form barely hidden by his leather jacket.

Heart beating loudly against your chest and blood rushing in your ears, you didn’t have any time to think your decision through before acting.

You rushed forward, trying to push past him to get to the front door, but you were a moment too slow.

Rafe’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, easily picking you up and spinning you away from the door.

You cried out as he carried you forward, pushing you against the table in the middle of the room and bending you over it.

“Stop it-!” You screamed as you struggled against him, but he easily pinned you against the hard wood, letting out a wicked snicker as he roughly pushed the skirt of your dress up.

“Don’t you want someone to take of you, baby?” The blond groaned desperately, fingers grasping at your tights before ripping them open.

“I just wanted to treat you nice, Y/N.” He growled, anger radiating off his tongue. “Like the good girl I thought you were.”

You wretched your arm free before bending your elbow and thrusting it into Rafe’s stomach.

He cursed loudly, his grip on you loosening for just a moment before his hand clamped down around your wrist, painfully twisting it behind your back and harshly forcing you against the table. When you heard his belt jingling behind you, your heart skipped a beat.

“Looks like I was wrong.” Rafe spat, and you whimpered in fear as he pulled your panties to the side. “Maybe you are a fucking slut.”

“Rafe please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t do this, Rafe,” you were quaking beneath him, crying harder as your pleas fell on deaf ears.

You froze however, voice dying in your throat when you felt the tip of his cock run along your folds.

“Oh god,” he strained, and you squirmed beneath him, cringing when his lips came to your ear.

“You’re so wet you’re dripping down your fucking thighs, sweetheart,” he taunted, barely shifting his hips forward and spreading your lips with his dick.

You sucked in a shaky breath, legs growing weak underneath you. You fisted the hand pinned against your back until your knuckles grew pale. His fingertips brushed your clit as he languidly dragged his tip along your pussy, up near your ass, then down to your clit. Up, down, languid strokes as he hissed through his teeth.

"Bet Jack wouldn't ever get you this wet, huh?"

Jack’s lifeless body flashed before your closed eyelids again, quickly replaced by the sharp sting of Rafe's fingers clamping your clit, rolling his slick-covered digits over your nerves. An instinctual whine left your lips, and Rafe sneered down at you as he dragged his dick back up to your hole, circling the head around your entrance as you protested.

"Rafe, please, please," you cried into the table, clenching your knees together and tilting your hips from him, anything to get him to pull away.

“Fucking stay still!” He hissed, wrapping his thick bicep around your throat in frustration. You let out a choked whine, tears coming to your eyes when his muscles flexed, cutting off your breathing, and Rafe ignored you as you helplessly scratched at his arm.

He groaned as he pushed into your cunt, his tip nearly sliding all the way inside of you, met with resistance that only fueled him further. Your pleas were lost to the heat that blushed Rafe's face.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you been holding this back from me?" He dragged himself out of you, watching as you clenched and quivered from the sudden withdrawl. Again, he pushed his flushed head into your warmth, and then out, in slow teasing strokes that made your head spin.

Against every survival instinct that was screaming at you, you stopped fighting. Each sting of his dick breaching you, each wet squelch of his fat tip inside you left you feeling dizzy with want.

However, when you felt his cock inch deeper inside, you whined in protest and squirmed in his arms, but one flex of the bicep at your throat quelled your resistance quickly.

“You’re so pretty, you know that, Y/N?”

You shuddered as Rafe groaned against your ear, his arm locked around your neck and preventing you from turning away. Your knees shook beneath you as he slowly forced himself deeper, and you felt betrayed by your body when you felt yourself growing slicker around him.

“Too pretty to be trapped in this shitty office job, wasting your hours at work, if you ask me,” he purred.

His fingers found your clit again, thumb rolling over your sensitive bud, and you bit back a moan as your back arched instinctively, allowing Rafe to dip deeper inside.

He was much bigger than you expected, stretching you out with each thrust, and pushing himself deeper and deeper until his tip kissed your cervix.

The blond wasn’t holding back anymore, reveling in every mewl and whimper he could draw out of you; and the way your snug walls clenched around his length had his hips snapping against your ass as he chased his release.

“Don’t you want a family to care for, baby?” He groaned, fingers swirling over your clit and you whined, trying to squeeze your legs shut in a desperate attempt to stop him.

His words echoed in your head, the sick irony completely lost on him.

You already had a family and he was holding you hostage to keep you away from them.

“We could start our own, together,” he whispered, and a muffled sob escaped your lips. When you squirmed beneath him, he easily held you in place, punishing you with quick, painful thrusts.

“You’ll never have to worry about working again,” he groaned when your tight walls squeezed around him. “Just- fuck- stay at home ‘n be my pretty, little housewife.”

Disgust and terror bloomed in your gut as you realized with a shock just how twisted his fantasies were. You felt sick thinking about how long his obsession had been festering beneath the surface and you had been too blind to see.

Rafe pinched your clit between two fingers and you whined, tears running down your cheeks as he forced your legs open again. You tensed around him, letting out a choked moan when he rolled his thumb over your tender clit.

You hated him, but even worse, you hated how much control he had over your body, and how painfully delicious each stroke of his cock felt.

“Please-” you whimpered, not entirely sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going, twisted desire clouding your head as he plunged into you again and again, the sticky sounds of your slick cunt filling the cramped room.

Rafe groaned, easing his hold on your neck to lean forward and trail messy kisses from your cheek to the side of your throat that was exposed, never slowing his pace or the steady circles around your clit. Nausea churned in your gut at the overly intimate gesture; and when the scent of copper reached you, you realized he had smeared some of Jack’s blood onto your cheek.

You gasped loudly when his lips attached to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Rafe’s low grunts vibrated against your throat when you squeezed down around him.

Your body rocked with every thrust of his hips, your knees quaking beneath you as his thumb circled around your clit faster now.

“Rafe-” your breath hitched and you shamefully realized that your undoing was hurdling towards you.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his bicep flexing around your throat as he lost himself in his pace, plunging into you again and again.

You let out a choked whine when his thumb pressed harder against your tender bud, and you were finally pushed over the edge.

Your body tensed, legs shaking as your slick walls spasmed around him. You squeezed your eyes shut as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, whimpering pathetically as Rafe pushed his cock into you again and again.

He snickered as you cried beneath him, reveling in the way you helplessly scratched at his arms, tearfully begging him to stop.

The blond slammed into you harder, each slap of his balls against your sensitive clit made your head spin and it wasn’t long before you were coming around him again.

You trembled beneath him, so dazed that you could only whimper mindless pleas.

“Fuck-” Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as you squeezed around him, his pace stuttered, and the arm at your throat tightened as he grew closer.

You could barely breathe now, and you struggled against him as he choked you, panic overtaking you when your vision grew fuzzy around the edges.

Rafe groaned loudly when he came, forcing his cock deep inside you and painting your walls with his hot, sticky seed.

You shuddered when he nudged himself deeper and you felt his thick cum overflowing past your sensitive, puffy lips. Out of instinct, you tensed beneath him, and he moaned against your ear when you tightened around his softening cock.

After what felt like forever, he finally pulled out, loosening his hold on you, although you couldn’t have fought back now even if you tried.

You heard him pulling his pants up behind you, and you flinched when his hands came to your back to pull your skirt down to cover you.

“C’mere honey,” he cooed, carefully lifting you off the table and guiding you to the couch. You obeyed him, much too out of it to put up any more resistance.

You cringed in pain as you sat down, but tried to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

Rafe’s hand was on your back, lightly drawing small circles on your exposed skin, and you found it nauseating that he could be so gentle after treating you so savagely.

He was staring at you, studying your nervous face for a few moments before reaching out to cup your cheek.

You flinched, turning away slightly as he drew closer, but his grip was firm, and he held you in place as he leaned in and draped his lips over yours.

Your stomach turned as his lips slid over yours possessively, and you let out a squeak of surprise when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, groaning as he staked his claim on you.

When he finally pulled away, your head was swimming, and the dazed look in your eye made Rafe smirk.

“Aw look at you, never seen you so cock drunk before,” he chuckled, before leaning in to give you another quick peck on the lips.

“You gave me the best Christmas gift I could ask for.” He grabbed one of your hands, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing gently. “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

You stared at him blankly, a tear rolling down your cheek that Rafe chose to ignore as he looked deep into your eyes.

“I love you, and I promise, I’m never leaving your side again.”

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yieldtotemptation · 2 days ago

Text

WISH ft. Giselle

giselle x male reader smut

8k words

"It's a Christmas miracle!" —is how Giselle chooses to make her grand entrance, swinging open the door to your bar, a fresh powder of snow dusting her shoulders. She shrugs it off. "My favourite person in all of Seoul."

You deadpan, "That's very concerning."

She laughs off your quip with the same ease that she does everything else. Sways her hips, saunters over to you, fire engine-red heels clacking against wood as she rushes to take her usual stool. Not like she'd have to fight anyone for it, there's no one else here.

Besides, even if there were—it's always been hers.

You're sliding over her drink before she can even open her mouth to order, because that's what you do for her. Anticipate. Your job in a nutshell, really. Knowing what she wants.

Her thanks is in the blush colouring her cheeks, flushing them a rosy pink, matching her hair in hue.

Just so immediately pretty.

She raises the drink, grinning at you through the glass. Gets a little too dramatic with her gasp.

"Exactly what I wished for! How did you know?"

"Made a list, checked it twice."

That earns you a giggle, has Giselle leaning forward, propping an elbow on the bar, chin in her palm. Her usual routine—just sitting there, all beautiful and flirty and really, really fucking out of place amongst the dim lighting and worn-out leather.

And yeah, you’ve committed it all to memory, seen it in every light and shadow; the smoky liner ringing around her eyes, the gloss that makes her lips look shiny and sweet and oh so soft. The absolutely devastating smile that never seems to leave her—only gets wider, warmer, parting when she laughs and slaps a hand on the table, or lands it on your forearm.

Accidentally, of course.

"Does that mean I get to sit on your lap later?"

It’s a touch early for her to throw out bait so blatantly. That’s more of a three-drinks-in kind of thing.

Still, your mouth answers for you before your brain can catch up, “Depends if you've been naughty or nice.”

“I think we both know the answer to that one,” she says, far too casually for you to handle, daring you to let that thought linger. Let it rattle around your head with all the other loaded thoughts involving her in various states of undress and in all sorts of compromising positions—underneath, on-top, kneeling. Thoughts that are better kept on a tight leash.

Because you know what would happen if you were to give in to them.

How you’d reach over the bar separating the two of you, pull her onto the counter. Send all the glasses, the bottles, crashing to the floor, and just kiss that smile right off her face, right here, right now. Tear off her clothes and leave her bare and exposed to the cold December air, make her yours, fuck her absolutely senseless. Render her nothing but a victim to your fingers, your lips, your cock, to all the need that’s been boiling inside you over the past months and—fuck.

She's got you good.

There's no point in pretending like it hasn't been this way since the first time she found you—at the end of an alley that's at the end of another alley, down the stairs and into the underground proper. Waltzing her way into the hovel that is your whiskey bar; all for reasons that you’re yet to fully untangle.

Months of performing this same dance—it's late, she walks in, typically perfect and bouncy, like some half-remembered fantasy or a libido-driven hallucination. Only, she must be real, because there’s no way you could ever conjure up someone like her.

It's embarrassing, you really should be far more used to it now, built up at least a partial immunity to her brand of charm. But somehow, she still finds a way under your skin. You’re only human, after all. And she’s… she’s Giselle.

Undeniably, in-your-face gorgeous, Giselle.

Dead-set and determined to throw herself at you until you break.

"Perfect," is her evaluation when she's taken her first sip. It plays out like it’s been choreographed: she licks her lips, flashes that million-dollar smile, lets loose a sigh of pure joy. Looks at you all wide-eyed and impressed; like you're the only person in the world who's ever given her exactly what she wants. Like she doesn't already live in a reality where everyone else falls flat on their faces to ensure that the needs of Aeri Uchinaga are met. “Always perfect.”

And you have your own steps to follow. You're glued to the pulse in the curve of her neck, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the naked collarbone when she shirks off her coat to reveal tits that are much too ample for her dress to contain. All these little things that make her so fucking distracting.

She says, surreptitiously, "You know, I didn't think you'd be open today."

"And yet you came anyway."

"And yet I did."

There's the loaded insinuation stacked on top of her words like a teasing question mark:

('I came looking for you.'

'I was waiting.')

"Like I said, a Christmas miracle," Giselle repeats, softly this time. Barely audible over the Christmas tunes you’ve got on a loop, some self-inflicted torture you’re wreaking on yourself for purposes unknown. Maybe to get into the spirit of things. Maybe to keep the silence at bay. Maybe to make Giselle's efforts feel less effective.

It doesn't work.

It does, however, have you leaning in just to hear her better, and that's a mistake right there. Getting too close that you can follow the lines of the dress she's picked out for the night. A sheer black, strapless number that hugs her figure close, dipping at her chest, giving you just enough of a glimpse to send the alarm bells ringing.

Ending short of the tops of her thighs, because of course she's wearing stockings, and of course they have tiny little bows holding them up, and you're already thinking about how easy it would be to get your teeth in them and pull them apart, and the walls are starting to feel closer and closer with each passing second.

But you don't say anything. You just try to remember to breathe. You chance a look back at her face, aiming for unaffected.

Her eyes instantly undo you.

Giselle uncrosses and crosses her legs. The stockings stretch.

"Like what you see?"

Now seems like an optimal time to pour yourself a drink. Something strong to fortify the weakness in your knees, to maybe bolster the resolve that's threatening to crack like the ice frosting over the windows outside.

You grab a glass, pour a good measure of whiskey and throw it back without even bothering with the usual ritual. You need it. The burn is a good distraction.

You turn her question back on her. Shame on her for asking something so obvious. "What do you think?"

"I think," Giselle smiles, tilts her head, that curtain of bubblegum-pink cascading over her collarbone and down onto the bar, "That it appears that all the effort I put getting into this tight fucking dress was worth it."

You're unable to stop yourself from saying, "Don’t need the dress if that was the intention." It slips out of you, like an idiot, and you decide to busy yourself by pouring two more drinks, because you really don't know what the fuck else to do at this point.

“Duly noted,” she says, likely adding it to some mental file she keeps on you. Ways to get you to drop your guard. Ways to get under your skin. “But don’t you think unwrapping presents are half the fun?”

You’re rolling your eyes, it’s too much, but Giselle’s too good at this whole thing. Got the two of you sliding deep into the easy rhythm of conversation you've found yourselves in many, many times before; when it's just you and her in the waning hours of the night and you're finding excuses not to close up and she's finding excuses to stay.

And the drinks just compound on it even more. All the alcohol really seems to do is blunt her filter and dull your better instincts, bringing you both to that tipsy point where everything that comes out of your mouths can’t help but sound like shameless innuendos; all terrible ideas that you both absolutely must indulge in.

Talking and flirting and drinking until you’re finally crossing that invisible line drawn over the counter of your bar, forgetting about that ethereal wall of separation that keeps you on the straight and narrow; that would normally stop you from doing things like reaching over and brushing a strand of pink out of her face and over her ear.

You keep your hand there, your thumb padding the soft skin of her cheek. She leans into your palm.

“So,” she says, and it’s accompanied by the kind of pause that holds a whole universe of possibility. She takes a sip of her third drink of the night, her eyes fixated on you, studying the lines on your face. Trying to find the cracks.

“So.”

“Why haven’t you made a move on me?”

She might as well have gathered snow from outside your door and thrown it right at your face. You blink, the warmth of the whiskey in your cheeks fading fast. “Very confident of you to think that I would want to.”

“Don’t dodge,” she chides. “We both know you didn’t open tonight for the amazing business rush. So. Spill. Why?"

You’re about to spout off an excuse—something about a Hippocratic oath, or bartender-customer privilege, but Giselle cuts your lie short before it can even leave your throat.

“You’ve been staring at me like you want to eat me alive every night I’ve been here, and you expect me to believe you’re not interested?” Giselle leans closer, her breath warm on your hand. Her eyes piercing through, stripping away every defence you’ve ever had. “You’re barely hiding it you know? How badly you want me.”

There’s an implicit challenge underneath her words. You get the message loud and clear:

Don’t you know how badly I want you too?

"It's—" you start, before course correcting when you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. You swirl the whiskey around in your own glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light and dance. "Complicated."

"Oh really?" Giselle's eyes light up at that, and you're beginning to feel like you're falling into some trap she's set up. It just hasn’t revealed itself to you yet. "I like complicated. I live off complicated."

"I'll bet," you reply, not missing the fact that she's now taken your hand into hers, threading her fingers through yours. "Probably why you're here so often."

Giselle clicks her tongue, runs it across her lips. You'd die for a taste. "I thought I asked you to stop dodging. But, if you really want to know, I come here because I like the company," she explains, before ending her thought with, "and the attention."

"Because being an idol doesn't give you enough?"

"Not in the way I want it."

"And I do?"

"Not yet," she says, with an air of finality. "But give it time."

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of the unspoken. The air in the bar feels charged, like the moment before a storm hits. You're reading her, acutely aware of the things running through her mind, because you can see it in her eyes, because they're the exact same thoughts that’s never left yours.

You want her.

You need her.

She’ll give herself to you.

Giselle’s the first to break the pause. “Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

The corners of eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and that's about where you realise your fate's been sealed from the start. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. You’re aching already. "What I really want for Christmas."

You don't need a map to know where this is headed. But you still ask anyway. "And what is that?"

"You."

You set down your glass with a clink. "Look, Giselle—"

"Let me finish," she interrupts, and now her hand's sliding up your arm, leaving a trail of static wherever she touches. "For Christmas this year, all I want is for you to do whatever you want to me."

A second attempt, "Giselle—"

"I know you want to. You know I want you to. We've danced around this for too long and I'm running out of ways to subtly tell you that if I don’t get my hands on that perfect cock that I know you're hiding, I just might burn this place to the ground. So," she says carefully, intentionally. Making sure you feel each word coursing through your every nerve ending, winding their way down to your cock, until you’re throbbing in your pants.

Giselle bats her eyelashes. Bites her lip. Leans even closer. Her tits get very close to winning the war against her dress.

"Don't you want to make my Christmas wish come true?"

You never stood a chance. "I do quite like my bar in one piece."

"I do too." Giselle's smile turns devilish. “But I like the idea of having your cum inside me more.”

"Then we better get you out of your clothes."

Only, a slight amendment.

"But keep the stockings on."

—

Giselle kisses you like a woman starved. Messy, sloppy crashes that has her nose bumping into yours and her teeth finding purchase in your lip. She seems determined to leave her mark. You’re more than happy to let her.

It’s a far cry from what you’re used to—the build-up, the slow crescendo where you both pretend that you don’t immediately want to jump to the inevitable—but Giselle clearly doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

The moment you’ve dragged her over the bar, fulfilled your fantasy and cleared the countertop so the only thing standing between you and her body is the crumpled mess of her dress, she's on you. Moaning, whining into your mouth, desperate. Tongue hunting down yours, pressing into it, trying to wrestle it into submission.

Taking your cheeks into her hands, holding firm, the only thing keeping her steady as you match her hunger, heat against heat. Her taste is everything you've ever wanted—sweet and sharp, like the whiskey burning through your veins, warming you from the inside out.

"God, I needed this," she whispers in the breaths between your kisses, as your hands get adventurous and run down the length of her spine, pulling her closer into you.

You make good on your promise, finding the zip, peeling it down, leaving the fabric to sag off her shoulders. Her skin is cold underneath your fingertips, the curve of her back breaking out in goosebumps. Your touch makes her arch, her back bow, her breasts push up against her dress until it can't hang on any longer and the whole thing pools around her waist.

“Merry Christmas to me,” comes tumbling out of your mouth when you finally get to appreciate Giselle.

The full, round tits, naked and begging for your hands. The smooth curve of her waist, the dip of her stomach. The way her hips flare out, giving way to thighs that you know, just know, will be the perfect grip. And the stockings. Holding up the suspension of your disbelief—she’s so ridiculously out of your league and yet so, so needy for you.

“Fucking gorgeous, Giselle,” you’re telling her, making her sigh, her eyes closing shut as you reach out to fill your hand with her chest. Your touch makes her nipples pebble, stiffen underneath your thumb. She leans back, pushing her chest out even more, giving you as much of herself as she can for you to touch, to tweak, to worship.

And she’s so much smaller than you, so much softer than you’ve ever allowed yourself to believe. The reality of her in your arms is far more intense than any fantasy you’ve ever concocted in the quiet of the night after she’s long gone and left you with nothing but her memory. But she’s giving herself to you now, wanting you to do it all.

Letting you push into her, kiss the skin between her neck and her clavicle, press into her a brand that will linger long after you’ve both unwinded and unraveled each other.

“Just like that,” Giselle whispers in your ear, hands finding your neck, needing you even closer still. “Don’t stop, just keep touching me. You can do whatever you want—tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”

Nothing else to do but oblige, to give in to your baser instincts, to bring every fantasy, every lurid thought to life. Giselle’s been living in your mind rent-free. Filled it with thoughts of fucking her into oblivion again and again—so you already know exactly where to go, what to do next.

You know to trace the edge of her stocking with your thumb, pressing down on the bow, watching as the skin around it flushes from your touch.

You know to drag your hand up, higher up her thighs, push the hem of her dress to her waist, slip under the elastic of her panties and hold itself there. Leave her trembling in anticipation of your touch.

“Please,” you’ve barely started and she’s already begging, breathless. Needing for you to explore her.

But first, you need to tell her how.

“I’m going to touch you,” you say, voice gruff, and she shudders, her hands tightening around your neck. “I’m going to get my fingers into your cunt, I’m going to squeeze your tits, I’m going to make you scream my name, and you will, because you’re going to be such a good girl for me. Understood?”

Her eyes flash open, meeting yours. Not an ounce of doubt. Just pure need.

“Yes,” she says. A single word that’s more a plea than a response. “Please. Do whatever you want. Make me feel good.”

She just about collapses when you yank her panties down and push your hands between her thighs.

“God—fuck—” and she’s sobbing already.

“You’re so drenched,” you’re remarking, sliding your fingers higher, feeling the wetness that’s been gathering there for who knows how long.

“For you,” she’s gasping, repeating herself, “For you.”

It’s so easy to find the heat of her, to push in and down on the top her mound. Give just the right amount of pressure on her clit that makes her jerk. Makes the muscles in her face twitch, her mouth open wide and moan. It’s a melody in your ears, and you press down harder, swirling now, and you’re beginning to think you’ve found your true calling.

Fuck making her drinks; making her fall apart is why you were put on this planet in the first place.

Her breasts jiggle with every tremble that runs through her, flickering in reach of you, taunting you with their bounce. You can’t help but lean down. Not when they’re calling to you like that.

You lick a path from the base of her neck to her collarbone, and then lower, to one of those perfect peaks that’s been begging for your attention.

Giselle inhales sharp through her teeth, her chest heaving as you start to suck on her nipple. You work your tongue around it, roll it in your mouth until her knuckles turn white against the edge of the bar, her nails digging into surface. The sounds she’s making, these choked gasps that are so raw, so needy.

Showing how good she feels with every part of her body—pushing her breasts up and into your face, her hands tangling in your hair, legs spreading wider, thighs shaking at the effort of staying upright.

You don’t let up, keep going—tongue swirling, fingers moving at double-time over her cunt, her other tit.

Listening to her turn your name into something filthy, something that sounds like a curse.

You pull back off her, cool air kissing the wetness you leave behind, making her quiver, her high, fuck-me heels knocking against wood.

“Giselle,” you say, taking in this look of bliss on her face. The teary eyes, the trembling lip, her cheeks now so very red. “Gonna make you cum now.”

You don’t wait for permission. You already have it. You step forward, lifting her legs up and trapping her atop the bar, spreading her wide open.

Two fingers at first, all at once, no hesitation. Giselle’s pupils blow wide, shocked, teeth bite down on her bottom lip, muffling a cry that you feel in the pit of your stomach. She’s so soaked that you slide right in with ease, a slow push that makes her whine, the slickness making the sounds of your fucking echo over the din of the empty bar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Giselle stutters, all breathy and desperate. Hands flying to your shoulders, nails digging in. Holding on for dear life, writhing as your fingers curl upwards, pushing up against that magical spot inside that has her clenching.

“Such a good girl,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth like they’ve always been there, just waiting for her to hear them.

The whimper that she makes—the noise alone should be illegal.

“So tight around me,” you tell her, pushing on, focusing entirely on pulling more of these noises from her, doing your best to ignore how hard you already are, how unbearable it is to not be inside her. “So good for me.”

It’s the praise that makes her keen, makes her whine. Pushes herself onto your fingers, trying to get more, trying to get all of you. Just so fucking hot for you.

You can see it playing out across her body, the way she’s losing herself to the pleasure, giving up control of her own functions to you. So helpless, so beautiful. So fucking delighted to finally have you using her in ways she’s only dreamt of.

You’ve never seen anything like it. You’re addicted before you’ve even had her.

“This cunt is going to feel so good around my cock.”

Giselle's nodding, slurring together a string of yeses and thank yous in response.

Her pussy’s pulsing around your fingers, juices soaking your hand, she’s already so close. So close that you can almost taste the orgasm on her skin.

“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you, Giselle? Want me to fuck you senseless.”

Her eyes are glazed over, barely there. Just stunningly beautiful even in the midst of her desire, and you’re not even sure she’s heard you at all until she’s panting out, “I want it. Need it. So much. Oh, God, please, fuck me with your cock. Make me cum. Make me scream.”

But you get in close, lips to her cheek, a command for only her to hear. “You’re going to cum all over my hand. You’re going to show me how badly you want it. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, please—” is the most she can manage, a harsh whisper that barely gets through. You feel it more than hear it, a shiver running through her, down her spine and up yours. “Do it. Give me more, I need it.”

She’s nothing short of incredible. Writhing under your touch, losing herself to your fingers—there’s never been anything—anyone—like this. Anyone that runs this hot, that pleads this much, that is so eager for nothing but you, as much of you as you can give.

There’s no excuse for why it's taken so long to get here, why you let every other opportunity skate by. But now’s not the time for regrets. This is all just catch-up. Getting to this moment that’s been burning a hole in your mind. Making up for all the times when you should’ve been bringing her to her knees, should've been marking her up as yours.

“Mine,” you’re claiming, taking her lips once more, feeling the tremble in her chin. “You’re going to be mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” her voice quavers back into your mouth.

She kisses you back like she’s drowning, like you’re the very air she needs to breathe. And it’s all you can do to finger-fuck her faster, pressing deeper into her wetness. It’s filthy, borderline disrespectful the way that you’re owning her now. But it’s all necessary, if that’s what it’s going to take to get to feel her shatter in your arms.

But just as you can feel her hips bucking up off the counter and into your wrist, as she’s about to tip over the edge, you pull back, breaking the kiss, leaving her choking for air.

“Look at me,” you tell her, forcing her glassy eyes to refocus, to snap to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to cum so hard for me. You’re going to look at me when you do.”

Giselle opens her mouth answer, but all that comes out is a whiny mewl when you slide your other hand from her tits to the back of her neck, pulling her into you, hard enough that you can feel her pulse drumming against your palm.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” you say to her, adorning her with all these sweet words that absolutely wreck her. And it’s so easy to because all of them fit. Your good girl, your slut, your baby, your whore. She deserves to hear them all. “Take it, take it all for me.”

“Fuck, please, I’m almost—” She tries and fails to put the syllables together—your fingers are too good, too precise in their frenzy. Playing her body, hitting every key, every beat, rushing to that final chorus.

And then it hits her, without warning, just a sigh and then she’s—

“I'm—I'm—cumming!”

Eyes trying to stay on yours, losing focus, turning wild, until she’s barely even there anymore.

Giselle cums.

Locking her in place, rippling across her body. Every muscle tensing, cunt quivering, hips lifting off the bar as her juices paint your hand.

“Thank you, thank you, fucking thank you—"

Her voice dies out, trapped in her throat, her words becoming nonsense as your fingers have her riding waves. You’re utterly transfixed, watching the orgasm rip across her face, melting her down to a messy puddle. Barely hanging on to you, mouth lolling open, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in sharp and fast.

She’s limbless, her body goes slack, and you debate giving her the space, or even just a second to catch her breath, to come back to reality.

But you just don’t.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop working her, because something tells you that the last thing she’d want is for you to stop. Something tells you that she’s one of those girls—the ones who love to chase the high. Who love to be pushed, who love to be told that they’re doing so well, that they’re perfect.

And Giselle is.

“Again,” you press into her neck, and she gives you the closest approximation to a nod that she can muster. “Again and again, I’ll make you cum until you can’t walk straight. Until you forget what it was ever like to not have my cock inside you.”

The nods come faster, insistent, following a whine as your fingers slide out of her cunt, all sticky with her juices. You bring it up to her, hold it in front of her face so she can see the mess she’s made of your hand.

Her breath hitches when she opens her eyes, catching sight of your glistening digits. You don’t even need to prompt her; she takes the initiative—she’s sucking your fingers without a second thought.

Moans when she tastes herself, sucking them clean, tongue flicking across your knuckles, pulling them into her mouth, relishing her own flavour.

“So fucking needy for it, aren’t you?”

You withdraw your fingers, enjoying the cry of protest at the loss, but you’ve got better plans for her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, before backing off completely, leaving Giselle empty, her legs wobbly.

You're quick to lose your clothes, stripping yourself off without much ceremony, tossing them aside with little care for where they end up.

And yet Giselle’s eyes rake over you, following your every move—she’s seen you before, you’ve caught her staring at your arms, your biceps, making no secret of assaulting you with her gaze at any chance she can get.

But now it’s the unbuckling of your belt, the vanishing of your jeans, the reveal of your cock. Springing free, hard and heavy.

Giselle wants it. Mouth salivating, pussy leaking at the sight of it. Oh, how she wants it.

It gives her energy, has her reaching out for a touch, a stroke. But you stop her, gently taking her wrist into your hand before she can make her Christmas wish come true.

She even has the audacity to pout. “Haven’t I been good?”

“Good?” You repeat, and you’re laughing. “You’ve been downright angelic.”

The pout quirks into a smirk, and there’s that familiar mischievous spark returning. “Then don't I deserve a little reward?” Giselle’s fingers go to her folds, spreading them apart. Putting her cunt on display, proud to show off how ready she is to be filled. “Like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my perfect little pussy?”

You don’t bother with the usual finesse, there’s no need for that. This doesn’t land anywhere on the normal spectrum of casual hook-ups to making love. This is about fucking. About need, raw and unfiltered.

“So, would you please—"

You’re yanking her by the waist before she can get started, lifting her off the bar and setting her down in front of you. There’s that thrill rushing through her, at being so easily handled, so effortlessly claimed.

She’s panting, breaths fogging up the air between you, waiting for your instruction.

“Get rid of the dress.”

Her compliance is instant—she steps out of her outfit, her panties. Until she’s just standing before you; the charm, the sex appeal, the big beautiful eyes all in view, so full of hope and desperation for the special kind of bliss only you can provide her.

Just Giselle, her fucking gift of a body in a pair of tight black stockings and high stiletto heels.

“Now,” you say, tilting your hips forward, your cock jabbing into her stomach, pressing a stamp of need into her skin. Giselle preens at the contact, practically vibrating at your touch. One more thing— “Beg.”

“Fuck me,” she says. Simply, honestly. With every ounce of her soul. “Fuck me good. Take me. Please. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. I’ve been dreaming of this, of you fucking me just like this, so—please, make it real.”

“Begging’s a good look on you, Giselle,” you murmur, finishing the rest of the thought in your head. ‘You're going to be doing a lot more of it tonight.’

She yelps when you flip her over, force her to brace herself against the bar. Her lovely ass high up in the air, her pussy drooling onto the floor.

You don't bother warning her.

You stuff your cock into her.

She fucking screams.

So wet, so slippery. Sliding in and out of her, forcing her cunt to mould itself too you. So fucking tight that you have to bite back a groan, have to fight the urge to just pound into her, to fuck her into the counter.

But there's still a pace you're setting, a rhythm that’s not quite as frantic as her needy cries. You’re in no hurry, not yet. You want to savour this. The feel of her clenching around you, the way her back arches with every thrust, her palms slapping against the bar top, leaving little smudges of sweat behind.

“God, this—” Giselle tries, but finds herself lost for words, unable to properly articulate just how good it feels to have you inside her. But the noises she makes—whimpers and gasps and moans and groans—speak volumes.

You complete the thought for her— “You fucking love this, don’t you?” You’re grunting, pressing your body to hers, nipping at her ear. Slurring these dirty thoughts like they're sweet nothings, these words of pure filth into her neck. “Love being fucked like this. Been waiting for it for so long. So goddamn desperate for it that you can’t even fucking talk.”

She’s fucking amazing. Not just the feeling—hot and tight and perfect—it’s the way she moves with you. Pure pleasure ricocheting through her, the slap of her ass against your hips, the sway of her tits underneath her, her cunt desperately trying to swallow you whole.

It’s her, her body, so alive and responsive and sensitive underneath yours. Taking your cock so deliciously, her cunt fluttering around like it’s trying to hold onto it, like it’s never going to let go.

“So, so fucking hard,” she’s found her voice, clawing back some level of composure. Enough to tense her cunt, squeeze her walls around you. Needing you to know every inch of her body, every inch of her pussy, needing you to know that it’s all yours for the taking. “God, it feels so good—doesn’t it? Fucking me here. Tell me. Tell me how good I am. Tell me I’m a good girl. Tell me you’re never going to be able to spend another second here without thinking of my pussy.”

You know she’s right, she’s leaving a part of herself here, branded into the very fabric of this bar that’s been your sanctuary. It has you pushing in deeper, a violent thrust of your hips, a little punctuation to drive her point home.

She swallows as you pick up speed, chokes on a half-formed moan—so, so fucking close. But you’ve only just begun.

Grabbing her hair, winding your fist in pink, pulling her up so she's forced to listen. The details on her face are all hazy, her makeups smudged from tears, from where she’s rubbed at her face, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. But that’s not how this goes. That’s not how any of this goes.

“You want to hear how good you’re being for me?” A harsh whisper for her, and it takes so much effort for her to just nod in response. “You want me to tell you all the filthy things I’m thinking? Everything that I’ve been dying to do to you?”

“Yes,” she pleads back. “Tell me, please—I need to hear it all.”

So you do. You lay it all on her. Every unfiltered, explicit thought you’ve had—every depraved fantasy that’s on the tip of your tongue whenever she’s around. You tell her all of it, how much of a whore you’re going to turn her into; how much of a slut you want to make her.

How this isn’t the last time. No, there’s going to be hours, days, weeks of this after. Of you fucking her here, of her coming to you just to have another taste of your cock. It’s a revelation, a promise, and it fucking ruins her.

“Every single time you've walked into here, every single time you've sat across form me, I've thought about this," you're grunting now, giving in to the urgency that’s been building up in your chest, the pressure that’s been weighing on you for what feels like an eternity. “I’ve thought about bending you over this very bar. Making you beg for it, making you scream out my name when I fuck my cum into you. Making sure every single person out there knows that this cunt is mine to take whenever I fucking want.”

It’s so fucked, the effect that hearing all this has on her. The sound of your voice, your darkest desires, the harshness of your words, it’s all too much for her, it’s everything she’s ever wanted to be told.

You’re unlocking something in her, something she’s never admitted to anyone, not her closest friends, not her bandmates, not even herself. The way you speak to her, the way you’re treating her like a perfect little fuck doll—and you’re realising that maybe, just maybe, it’s because no one’s ever fucked her well enough to find out.

There’s no room here to be gentle, there’s no way in hell she’d ever want you to be. You tighten your grip in your hair, slam into her harder, skin slapping against skin, mixing with the wet sounds of her pussy taking all of you. Each cry you fuck out of her is music, each one a little higher pitched, a little more desperate than the last.

“This is what you want isn’t it?” You’re demanding of her, even when she’s blubbering, barely able to breathe let alone respond. Just trying to hold on.

But you’re not letting her.

You’re taking her to that place that’s beyond words, that’s beyond thought. The place where all she can do is feel and react. And she’s doing that so beautifully, her body shaking, her cunt quivering around your cock. It’s building and building, the things you’re doing to her, saying to her, making her choke on her own spit, making her eyes roll back and her mouth drop open, until all she can repeat, over and over again is your name.

“Again,” she shapes another word, another plea. She’s a total disaster of need. “Please, again, make me cum again.”

“You'll cum when I say you can,” you growl, forcing her to choke on another whine. The strangled noise goes straight to your cock; makes it throb harder inside her, drive deeper into her. You let go of her hair, only to palm her tit, squeezing into the flesh hard. Giselle jolts, a squeal escaping her lips. “But since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you cum before me again. Just this once. Just because it’s Christmas.”

You’re being evil, you know it, she loves it, but it's the best part. She clearly wouldn't want it any other way.

”Yes.” Giselle’s beaming, shivering with excitement. Getting fucked into utter ruins and thanking you for the privilege. “Thank you, use my pussy, do whatever you want, just let me cum.”

That sparks an idea, “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” Giselle pants, not a single idea of what she’s agreeing to. But maybe that's the whole point. “Anything.”

There’s a grin that splits your face that you can’t help, that you don’t bother suppressing. “I’m not going to ask for permission anymore, Giselle. I’m just going to fuck you the way I want. Make you addicted to my cock. Take you how I want, cum in all your holes, fill you up over and over again.”

Giselle’s eyes go wide, nearly stops breathing entirely. So close. Knowing that the next words out of your mouth are going to decimate her completely.

“Gonna make you start the New Year knocked up.”

She freezes.

“God—” Giselle’s a fucking wreck, on the verge of something explosive, something else entirely. “Oh my God.”

She just needs you to give her that push.

“You love it, don’t you? Being made nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

You’re fucking her too hard, hammering into her too roughly, it’s a wonder that she can even manage a stuttered, “I—I—”

“Fucking say it, Giselle,” you say, “Spit it out.”

It’s too difficult for her to fit the words together, to form her reply, so it means all that more when she manages to tell you. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“Your cum in me. All of it. Until I’m, until I’m—” She’s there, lost in it, in the idea of you ruining her in such a permanent, irreversible way. Or maybe completing her, making her whole, making her perfect for you and only you.

But you’re so close too. Right fucking behind her. All she has to do is say it.

“Until you breed me. Fill me with your cum, give it to me. I need it. Make me your permanent cocksleeve and never let me go. Make me yours—completely, forever yours. Make me your fucking whore.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Hits her like a fucking meteor. Leaping right off the most intense high she’s ever climbed. Bucking and quaking against your bar, your cock still impaled inside her, mercilessly undoing her. It’s nothing short of fucking pornographic, fucking depraved the way it’s destroying her.

Seizing her entire body in pleasure, her nails digging into the wood, scraping up marks that will prove to be a sweet, everlasting reminder of the exact moment she became yours. Fracturing her, breaking her apart into a million tiny pieces and then remaking her all over again as something purely sexual—something that only exists for your satisfaction.

“So fucking good, your cock, God it’s you, just you—” Giselle’s words dissolve into a keening cry that shatters the remaining silence of the bar. “Breeding me so good—”

Nothing short of a miracle that she’s still on her feet, that she can still do anything at all. One last thing she needs to do in the dying embers of her lucidity, one final goal—choke your cock with her cunt, wring you dry, make you flood her with your cum.

“Cum, cum, fill me, breed me, give me your—”

“Take it,” you exhale, “Take it all.”

And it’s Giselle in her entirety that overcomes you, overloading your senses with the pure, distilled feeling of just her. The smell of her sex, her perfume, the feel of her curves, her softness, the perfection that is her pussy, enveloping your cock, drenching it in her wetness. These things that you’ll never, ever be able to forget.

But it's her words that make you erupt.

“Breed me, Daddy!”

You cum deep into Giselle’s pussy.

Buried inside her, rushing white hot, thick and heavy. Ropes and ropes of it, spurting inside her, painting her insides, coating her walls until it’s just sheer heat and you making her whole.

Her cunt’s clenching around you, she’s begging, slurring moans and whimpers that there’s no fucking chance you have of comprehending—just basking in the knowledge that they’re desperate, needy sounds that are all for you.

She can’t keep it all in. But she needs to.

Something knocks the architecture out of her legs, but you’re quick enough to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight, keep her on her feet. Keeping her from collapsing entirely, just letting her pulse around you, clench and quiver.

You’re kissing her into the shoulder, cooing these affirmations, keeping her with you, telling her the truth of it all, “Such a good girl, Giselle. Taking my cum so well.”

Giselle can’t say anything. She sobs. Face buried in her hands. Not from pain, not even close. You’ve never seen pleasure look so much like agony. So much like release.

It’s overwhelming.

You try to make a move, take a step back. But Giselle flexes her cunt, clutching you tighter. Reaches back with her hand for your thigh to stop you.

“Wait,” she whispers. "Not yet. Don't move. Keep your cock inside me. Don't let a single drop get out."

You give her the time, because she’s just so perfect like this. So unfathomably gorgeous, all fucked up and cum-drunk. In ways no one should ever be. Like you’ve torn the wings off an angel, brought her down to Earth and made her yours.

You revel in it.

“Take your time,” you breathe; the exhaustion, the strain, the adrenaline pumping through your veins all coming to a head at once. Keeping your cock plugging up her cunt. Leaving all your cum inside.

Neither of you are moving anywhere. Not until she says so.

Giselle laughs.

“Perfect,” she sighs, voice hoarse and shaky. “I knew it would be perfect. I knew you would ruin me like this. God, I don’t ever want to go back.”

You’re laughing too, harsh, airless chuckles that feel like they’re being torn out of your chest. You twitch your cock inside her. “You think you have a say in the matter?”

“I guess I don’t,” she giggles.

You look around at the scene of the crime, the evidence you've left on her. The marks on her skin, her shoulder, her neck. The ruins of her dress, her panties. The tearing of her stockings. Her tear-filled eyes, her smeared mascara, her drooling lips.

And her cunt, so full of you, so very yours.

It’s barely believable. She may not have burned down the bar, but there’s certainly a fire that’s been set. One that’s not likely to die down anytime soon.

It has you swelling inside her all over again.

Gisele feels it.

“Say,” she starts, wriggling her hips against you, making you groan. “You didn’t have any Christmas plans, right?”

Your hands slip down to her hips, idly massaging into the small of her back. “None at all.”

Giselle’s laughter subsides into a contented exhale, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you with a soft smile. Her hand reaches back, caressing the side of your face. “And the rest of the year?”

“Nothing that can’t be cancelled.”

“Good,” she says, her breath sweet against your cheek. “Cancel them all. Close up for the holidays. Shut all the doors. Stay inside with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And do what?”

“Get to work,” Giselle answers, pulling you into a last kiss, threatening to undo you all over again. “You did promise to knock me up by New Years.”

#kpop smut #giselle smut #aespa smut #male reader

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disparatemind · 2 days ago

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Link to pinned post with all parts here

Part 11

“So… am I in purgatory?” asked the soul when I'd brought over a couple of chocolate chip cookies.

“I guess you could call it that. I call it the realm between Life and Death, or the in-between. Essentially the concept is the same.”

A small sigh escaped the soul. “Now I'm afraid I may not go where I was hoping,” they said.

“Don't be discouraged. This isn't what I was expecting either.” Memories and fears tried to surface in my mind, but I pushed them down. “Do you remember your name?”

“It was… Sam.”

“I'm glad to meet you, Sam. I'm sorry that one of the other patrons made your welcome less pleasant than it should have been.”

“That's alright,” Sam answered. “I can't say I blame them, in light of the current… ah, circumstances.”

I raised an eyebrow and studied this easy-going soul for a moment. “You seem to be taking this rather calmly,” I said. “What you're feeling is none of my business, but if there's anything you'd like to talk about, I'm all ears.”

A small smile appeared on Sam’s face. “I appreciate that, but honestly, even though this isn't what I was expecting to see, I have faith I'll end up where I'm supposed to be.”

I nodded. “Until then, let me know if you'd like a refill or something to eat.”

“Thank you. You're a kind soul.”

“So are you, Sam.”

Leaving Sam at the counter with his coffee, I eyed the section of the cafe where Wade had taken the other newly-arrived soul. Taking a small breath, I headed over and nodded.

“Hello again. I'd like to properly introduce myself. My name is Rose, and this is my cafe. You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, provided you remain respectful of others. You're welcome to ask me anything, but I may not have all the answers.”

The soul glanced at Wade, who was seated across from them and looking like he wasn't about to move any time soon.

“Would you mind bringing me a cup of coffee? As strong as you can make it?” came the carefully polite reply.

“Sure thing. Would you like anything to eat?”

“I doubt you'd have it, but a poppyseed muffin would be nice.”

“I've got some from a batch I made earlier—I’ll be right back. Coffee black, right?”

A startled nod.

“Isn't she great?” Wade beamed as he settled back and put his arms behind his head.

Smiling and shaking my head as I went back to the counter, one of the other patrons drew my attention for a refill, and by the time I finally returned to Sam, his cup was empty.

“Sorry about that,” I said as I poured some fresh brew into his cup. “I try not to let my patrons’ cups get completely empty.”

“No apologies necessary,” Sam said. “This coffee is probably the best I've ever had.”

I thanked him with a smile. “And you're one of the politest souls I've ever waited on,” I replied.

As I went back out into the cafe to bring everyone their refills and plates, I couldn't help but hope within my heart that Sam found the peace he was looking for, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was sorely missed by the family he'd left behind.

You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.

#cafe at the edge of life and death #writing prompts #writeblr #short stories

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sparks-and-smoke · 3 days ago

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Hello! Could I get a fic about Bucky accidentally finding the reader’s Christmas gifts to him? Maybe he tries (and fails) to act surprised?

Thank you (ps I know it’s after Christmas, sue me)

Aww~ I don't care that it's too late for the holidays. It's cute! Merry Christmas (belated)

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader (code name honey)

Content/Warnings: none it’s just goofy holiday fluff

Author Note: merry late Christmas, this may or may not be loosely based in the Fate Stone AU I have brewing. (which since you are my beta reader ;) you already know about it.)

You are a notoriously bad gift giver, Bucky had been warned many times. He didn’t really care. As long as it came from the heart it couldn’t possibly be that bad. He could put up with socks or a cheesy mug as long as it came from you. But this was worse, so much worse.

“Sam, I don't even know what to do with it.” Bucky rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, confiding in the only other person he knew that wouldn’t immediately tell Honey. “Can I be honest here, it’s hideous.”

Sam was keeping a pretty good poker face over his mug poker but the situation was undeniably funny. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” But Bucky’s mortified face said it all. “Why were you spying on her gift away?”

“I didn’t mean too! Necessarily. She hid it in the bottom of the closet, man. She didn’t even hide it well... I’m a spy, I notice things. Plus it was pretty hard to miss.” The blanket had been tucked away in the back of the walk-in closet under a few other things. But the obnoxious colors of the corner peeking out from under the folded jeans had caught his eyes. They didn’t own anything in orange. Anything.

His honey had gotten him a blanket, which would normally have been so very sweet seeing how Bucky hated being cold, but it wasn’t just a blanket. It was one of those viral blankets, the ones that are loosely based on 70’s rock band merch with lighting and thunder clouds rolling in the background. It’s featured pictures of Alpine, every goofy spastic picture of the cat that his girl could find with her name in the boldest font Bucky had ever seen. Honestly it hurt his eyes, and as Bucky went about describing it to Sam the other man damn near fell out of his chair.

“That is perfect. No really I think she might be a genius. I’m gonna need a video of you opening that one.” Sam goaded.

“You're not helping.” Bucky growls, guilt twisting in his guts like a worm, but Sam was too busy laughing to try and give a shit. “How am I gonna act surprised now? Let alone be excited?”

“I don’t dude, I guess you need to start taking an acting class.” Sam wiped the tears from his eyes.

~~~~

Bucky watched with crinkled eyes as you opened your gifts from him. A nice wool winter coat because all you owned was a puffer, and while it was adorable on you and always kept you warm you always said you wanted something dressier for date night. And in your stocking an assortment of your favorite treats, skin care you were low on, and that perfume that you had been drooling over since October but always talked yourself out of because of the price tag. Bucky had been making a list since your birthday, keeping tabs on what you lingered on in stores and what you sighed at as you scrolled. He knew his girl and he knew her well. And the way you lit up with every item told him he hit it out of the park.

“Do you like it Honey?” he asked, his chin propped on his hand. His face couldn’t have been softer or voice more full of love as he watched you glow with joy.

“I love it. How did you even know what eye cream I use?”

“It wasn't that hard doll.” Bucky laughed, it sits in a clear box on your vanity of course he knows.

“Here! Open yours.” You hand him his stocking and the present wrapped in pretty silver paper, looking so excited you may vibrate across the floor. He plastered on his best game face as his stomach did a little flip. Do not ruin this for her Barnes.

He starts with the stocking. Pulling out body wash and a cologne scented with that smoky bourbon and apple scent you were fond of, along with a small batch roasted coffee and some new gloves. So far so good, and he made sure to kiss you. “I love it honey.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t opened your big one.” you say with a twinkle in your eyes that makes him wanna melt into the floor. Should he tell her, confess he saw it? Risk it and pretend he loves it?

“You’re right I haven’t.” he corrects himself with a smile picking up the package. It was instantly heavier than he remembered and as he tears open the package he has a brief (very guilty) moment of hoping that maybe he was wrong…

But no there it is. That hideous blanket that he knows instantly from the look on your face he is gonna end up snuggling under for the rest of time just to see you smile the way you are right in this moment. He opened his mouth to tell you thanks as genuinely as he could muster but honey was already biting her bottom lip. A fit of giggles falling out of her. “You already saw it didn’t you!” she managed to get out between chitters.

“What?! No- I…”

A pillow from the couch flew at his head. “I knew you would. You little sneak, you do this every year!” Honey chastised as Bucky dodged another swing with the pillow.

“Hey! Whoa!” Bucky's arms go up in a weak attempt at blocking her little onslaught. “I didn’t mean too!”

“Bullshit James Buchanan!” thump, a hit to his ribs. “You did it on your birthday.” Whack, a bump to the top of his head. “You somehow sniffed out the tickets I bought to Coney Island.” one more swing but this time Bucky caught the pillow, pulling you into his lap with it.

“I did not do it on purpose!” he defended, but he was beaming. Eyes crinkling in the corner as she glared playfully. “I didn’t!”

“Yeah, you just somehow stumbled upon the blanket I hid under the laundry in the back of our closet.”

“I was looking for my coat!”

“On the ground?”

Bucky was caught, because yes he had been looking. He always did. The man couldn’t help it, he always was just too curious. “Yea, I thought so you little rat! Do you like it?” she asks earnestly. And Bucky feels that gnawing feeling again, trying not to let it show on his face.

“It’s… super fluffy.” he tries to deflect, hating to lie to honey, but her face is already breaking into a grin. What the hell?

“You hate it.” she beams. “It’s hideous huh?”

Bucky frowns, slouching back in his chair. Did she want him to hate it. “Uh, yeah it is..”

“Good thing it’s not your actual present huh.”

Bucky's eyes narrow. “You little-” She did this on purpose, hid the most outrageous thing she could find just to punish him for spoiling presents. Clever girl. Weeks of fretting over how he was gonna pull this off and SHE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. With a giggle honey climbs off his lap and back behind the couch, pulling out a slim package from the cavern behind, and Bucky’s face nearly splits in half.

“Here. Merry Christmas.” She offers him the parcel with a kiss, sitting in his lap as he unwraps it, and he feels his heart flutter a little. It’s a scrapbook. Full of pictures of him, her, Alpine and their friends. Taken by everyone who has known them the last few years. There isn’t a lot, he doesn’t like taking pictures, preferring to take them. So she must have scoured their friends' phones to find all of these and Bucky can feel tear picking the backs of his eyes. Good tears.

“Thank you Honey. I love it. I love you…”

#voice-of-velhart #bucky barnes #avengers #marvel #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Sparks picks up

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taelophone · 2 days ago

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Where Is He? ♱ ⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: BLASPHEMY. Corruption kink . Improper use of a Rosary . Loss of Virginity . Tech Bro-ish Luigi . Dumbification . Reader is naïve . Coercion . Dark "undertones" but not really . Biblical imagery (duh) . Animal/Flower symbolism . Choking . Luigi's a liiiiitle mean . my grammarly dyed while making this so there may be spelling errors

Let's all raise a glass to @cranberrydietcoke for this wonderful idea <3

Respect was something that was taught in your house day after day.

It’s something you were expected to give to those around you: your elders, family members, strangers, anyone. The words “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” rang through your head for as long as you could remember.

Your friends always described you as expressive and generous, your kind and giving nature charmed the hearts of many. You were a sweetheart! A real angel.

The golden cross between your collarbones twinkled and glimmered under the sunlight, your white and blue sneakers scrunching and folding the crisp autumn leaves beneath you.

The sun beamed down on you, rays of warmth highlighting your skin as you made your way to pay your friend, Luigi, a visit. By now, he was probably locked up in the lab, pushing his spine to its natural limit as he folded over some laptop.

The plan was to give him some water, words of encouragement, and have a nice little chat before leaving to run some errands. And you were going to do just that!

You tugged your tote bag further up your shoulder, preventing the irritating strap from slipping further before pushing the double doors to Levine Hall open.

There was a loud clock-clock-clock as the soles of your sneakers tapped against the tile floors, the little charms and trinkets on your bag generating quiet clinking sounds as you walked.

You rounded the corner, making your way into the building's computer science and engineering part with a pep in your step. You waved at some of your passing acquaintances, offering warm smiles and good mornings to each familiar face.

“Luuu!” You called, approaching the table at the far back of the room. And there he was, strong and burly, as he whirled his head around to the familiar mellifluous hymn.

“Hey! What’s up!” He beamed, immediately scooting his chair back and tearing his focus away from the fat and boxy Dell computer in front of him.

“Hi!” You chirped, beaming brightly at Luigi, gravitating towards him immediately to give him a brief side hug. “I brought you some water and some chips!”

You pulled the two items out of your tote bag, handing them each to him gently with a soft smile.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” he beamed, graciously accepting your offerings and setting them down on his desk.

“How’s your day been?” He asked, cracking open his bottle of water with a small plastic crack, chugging it quickly as he crunched the water bottle in his hand.

“Well,” you began, pushing the image of his Adam’s apple bobbing as soon as he drank his water to the back of your head. “I started today with my daily bread, and then I got in the shower to try this new philosophy body wash I bought, had an abysmal breakfast, and then made my way here!”

He smiled, chuckling boyishly at your summarized morning. He nodded, typing up nonsense on his computer.

You leaned over his shoulder, your chin hovering just above his trapezius as you read over the code.

“Interesting…” you murmured, your brows pinching together with confusion.

He chuckled, shaking his head subtly. “It’s ok I barely understand this shit either,” he said.

“But it’s your job…yeah, okay,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes with the ghost of a smirk present on your features.

“That doesn’t mean I get it, though,” he joked, taking his hands off the keyboard and crossing them over his chest. His biceps flexed, the subtle pull of his veins gracing your very eyes as you straightened your posture once again.

“Whatever, man. I have errands to run,” you giggled, checking the time on your phone before tucking it back in your back pocket. “You should stop by later! Tell me more about your robot stuff. I’ve got like…ice cream and graham crackers.”

He smiled, piecing together his thought process once again as he went back to work. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come by at like five, five-thirty,” he said, punctuating his acceptance with a light nod.

You beamed, returning his words with a quiet “Great!” before saying your goodbyes and toddling off to complete the rest of your morning.

You spent the next 4 hours outside, running across Philadelphia to do ridiculous amounts of favors and errands.

Helping at the local church to prep for Sunday service, fixing around at a community soup kitchen, paperwork at city hall, and a lot of window shopping as you shredded the streets with gentle hands.

You were tired, to say the least.

After hour 2 of listening to the old pastor drawl on about his plans and wisdom of the week, your eyes stung with feather-light fatigue.

You sat on the bench, your knees pressed to your chest as you stared half-heartedly into the man’s obsidian eyes.

“Oh, my goodness!” He interrupted, getting a good look at the clock that lay tick-tick-tocking at the back of the room. “Look at the time! Thank you for helping me, young lady, but I gotta go and pick up my wife,” he said, wrapping his watch around his wrist.

You returned his smile, instantly unraveling your arms from around your knees. You went to leave, but you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and a spark of what could only be described as an electric shock fizzling in your mind.

“The lord has asked me to tell you to be careful. Take care of yourself, baby,” He pleaded, a warm and sympathetic smile spreading across his bronze face, aged with the bitter salts of time and experience.

You stood still, time leaving you at once as your heart palpitated momentarily.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

“I will. Thank you, Pastor Greene.” you nodded, ignoring the slight unease that engulfed your heart before exiting the church.

You stepped back into the warm white sunlight, the refreshing breeze rejuvenating your lungs as you took a deep breath. What was that even about?

You headed back home; quick to go pray away any negative energy and lay in your bed for the next 3 hours or so. And as soon as your feet planted on the wooden planks of your living room, you were eager to shower and face the Father once more.

You skipped to your bathroom, ridding yourself of the white turtleneck and baby-blue jeans. The shower fogged, condensation dribbling down the warmed glass.

The shower grew extremely blurred as thoughts poured down your mind, the scalding hot sin clouding your thoughts as you thought of his strong arms, the flex of his biceps, his God-given Adam’s Apple and the way it moved with his water—

You were getting sidetracked. It’s time to get out of the shower.

With a sigh, your eyes widened in shock at your own suddenly filthy mind. You tugged on your plush and grey bathrobe before scurrying away from the bathroom as quickly as you followed in.

You got your things situated on your vanity: your lotion, your bible, your skincare, and the little bread-shaped card holder that held little cards of your daily bread.

Your soft and gentle hands slathered your tacky skin in the buttery soft lotion, vanilla innocence and almond milk painting your angelic skin.

The extra sheen of sparkle the lotion gave you before putting on your pajamas, a freshly washed matching black tank top, and black sleep shorts. You tugged on the white drawstring, tying it in a tight knot and securing it around your hips.

With your pajamas on, your skin hydrated, and your mind cleared, you kneeled at your bedside. You found your rosary on the edge of your bed frame, the light wooden beads dangling the silver cross as you wrapped the sacred pearls around your fingers.

Your hands intertwined in prayer as murmurs left your sweet lips with your eyes fluttered shut.

Everywhere I walk, let it be on your path. Everything I see, let it be through your eyes. Everything I do, let it be your will. For every hardship I face, let me place it in your hands.

The incantations left your mouth like second nature, light and positive love flowing through your veins as you kept your head up high to your Savior.

When you rose from your kneeled position, the first thing you did was pull your pink-covered and annotated Bible in your lap. You plucked the rose-tinted highlighter from between the pages, scanning over the scriptures in silent wonder.

You hummed to yourself, lying flat on your stomach and slipping out of this world and into the next. Peace was growing increasingly rare in the world, and you were lucky to find it in moments like these.

That is until your phone dinged loudly.

You sighed, picking up your phone and flipping the screen to reveal Luigi’s text. He was five minutes away.

You smiled, hearting the message before placing your highlighter in between the thin pages. You popped up from your bed, throwing on your house slippers.

You toddled downstairs, making your way to the kitchen just to set out a tub of ice cream from the arctic depths of your deep freezer, hoping it softened slightly before his arrival.

You sliced up some lemon to throw in your almost iced pitcher of water from the fridge, the fogged condensation dampening your knuckles as they brushed against the body while you held the handle.

You grabbed the box of scarcely touched graham crackers, setting them next to the tub of ice cream. With everything ready, you snapped a pic of the little spread, giggling quietly to yourself before sending the pic to Luigi.

The living room was perfectly tidy, with vibrant orange flames of Macintosh Spice burning to fill the room with comfort. You stared at the portrait of Father God on the wall, meeting His eyes with humility and love before the doorbell chimed.

“Lu!” You smiled, immediately swinging open the door to reveal Luigi in his tech-bro glory. Both arms wrapped around his larger torso, pulling him in a brief, but squeeze-y hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled, stepping into your cozy and…unsurprisingly pure home. He took in his surroundings at once; the cross above the door, the picture of god on the wall, the pink and fuzzy throw blanket, and the little display case of cute Funko pops.

“Oh, that's so cool!” He gasped, gravitating towards the glassy shelf and staring at the vinyl figures. Thumper, Bambi, Stitch, Chip, Winnie the Pooh, and many more cutesy displayed figures. “You collect these?”

“Sometimes,” you nodded, crouching down next to him. I like buying the cute ones just to display,” you explained, watching him smile and giggle at the Kirby POP, snickering at how he was just a pink blob with tiny hot pink nubs.

He stood back up, gathering himself once again before sighing. “How were your errands? You said you were gonna run some today right?” He asked, crashing down on your couch with a light plop.

“I did!” You said, fetching the ice cream and graham crackers from the kitchen, and sitting them down on the beige coffee table. “I helped out Pastor Greene at the church this morning, organized some of his paperwork, helped him pick an outfit, helped decorate for Sunday’s service, helped finish some of his unfinished paperwork…I did a lot actually…”

Luigi’s brows raised slightly with an unidentifiable emotion. In a way it resembled pity, but also cocky superiority as if you were doing something…wrong?

“That’s a lot of free labor,” He joked, shooting you a sly smirk as he ate a piece of graham cracker.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckled. Breathy and forced with a raise of a brow as your mind tried to pick apart what he was getting at. Sure, you had your ways and blocks, but you weren’t stupid. “Don’t you do community service too?”

“I do,” he nodded. But I don’t think anything you did besides decorating for Sunday counts as community service. Pastor Greene's service, maybe, but it seems like you just helped him avoid doing the work he’s supposed to do as the pastor.”

You paused, replaying his words over again in your mind. Your spoon dragged through the slightly softened ice cream, the cold heaven deforming from its neat and perfect scoop.

“I don’t think so…” you said, tilting your head slightly. “I think it still counts as community service. Even if he is using me for personal gain, I’d still be helping someone in need, which is fine by me,” You justified.

“That’s cute,” he smiled, the sudden patronization and smug tone caught you a little off guard. He was normally a charming and polite man…but you were more than willing to look past it. After all, he was just concerned about your well-being. It was very thoughtful of him to take this level of care.

You nodded hesitantly, the confusion evident in your brows as they furrowed slightly. “Tell me about your robot thing! How’s it coming along?” You asked, eager to shake the festering feeling of doubt that began to gnaw at the back of your neck.

Luigi sat up a little more correctly this time, actually placing his feet on the ground and leaning back against the backrest of the couch. His hips came up a little, adjusting his position on the couch. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“It’s coming along great, actually,” he said, scanning over you closely. “I’ve been so stressed but I’m finally getting my shit together. Had to lock in.”

The pair of you chuckled together, chattering about different forms of data and computer science. He spoke in such a firm and confident tone. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t quiet. There was a thick layer of child-like wonder in his words as he mansplained robotics.

And you clung on to every single word he had to say. It was nice to see him light up, gesture wildly with his hands, and eagerly describe what was essentially a grueling process of inspiration to intellectual burnout over and over again. But he made it seem so fun!

You nodded, leaning back and adjusting your sitting before feeling a sharp pointed thing poke into the back of your leg.

“Ouch…” You whispered, furrowing your brows and pulling your rosary out of your shorts back pocket. “Oops…I forgot I had this,” you chuckled breathily, wrapping your rosary around your wrist and hoping you didn't throw him off from talking about his interests.

“That's pretty,” He said, staring at the prayer beads with a new glint in his eye as he reached out to examine the cross that dangled from your fingers. Sleek, shiny, and smooth wood met the pads of his fingers as you let him mindlessly fidget with the pearls of the Lord. He seemed fascinated by them like they were the most foreign thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ve never been Christian,” He started, slowly untangling the beads from your hands and placing the rosary on the coffee table. “It’s kind of a creepy concept when you think about it…believing in a made-up man with no evidence but word of mouth and a man-made book that's been translated over and over again.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his statement before waving him off.

“Science and theory are the exact same. Trusting the words of a bunch of men in coats because someone told you their ideas were right. At least with God, it’s way more simple” You said, poking at your ice cream with your spoon.

“Oh, honey…” He chuckled quietly. “Christianity is simple in a way that prevents you from living. Plus you can’t prove god is real. Science is complex because it's been proved by years of natural demonstration. You being alive to even preach the word of god is proof enough.”

Taken aback by his forward and patronizing tone, your head cocked back subtly before you gave Luigi a light chuckle. “My faith doesn’t prevent me from living…” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest.

In his eyes, you looked like a white lily; perfect petals and dainty little buds blossoming from the soul. Like freshly plucked notes of a harp, you sat in front of him an angel on earth. He wasn’t religious, after all, religion was a vastly misinterpreted and discredited term for people to justify impressing their wrongdoing upon others. A safe haven to “turn to” when man made a mistake, seeking refuge in the all-forgiving hands of Jesus Christ.

“Come here,” he prompted, gesturing his hands toward him loosely.

You paused, raising a brow at him in silent confusion. You crawled closer to him, still staying a comfortable distance away from him to leave some space for Christ.

“See?” he pointed out, his giddy words dripping with thick condensation. “You can’t even get close to me.”

“I can,” you corrected. “But I don’t like sitting particularly close to people because it invites room for lust. It’s not good for you” you recited, almost like the words were engraved on the base of your brain.

“Proving my point” He chuckled, giving you the most cocky and smug grin you’ve ever seen him don.

You sighed, quickly weighing out the pros and cons of getting closer to Luigi. He was a nice guy, for sure, and he’d never do anything without your explicit permission. After all, God is faithful and will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.

“That wasn’t so bad, see? Be careful!” He joked, holding back boyish giggles. “God’s watching!”

You chuckled, albeit involuntarily as he not-so-subtly poked fun at your devotion.

“Alright, not too much now” you snickered, trying to ignore how your mind and soul buzzed with a sudden unidentifiable thirst. His voice was low, an aura of deep temptation emitting from him in the form of bodily heat.

His sharp and wolfish eyes met yours, the warm and endless portals of black sucked you in within an inch of your life. Falling through the rabbit hole like a dumb bunny that didn’t look while they ran.

“What's wrong?” He asked, noticing the way your lamb-like eyes widened ever so slightly. He placed a firm and heavy hand on your thigh, the skin-to-skin contact burning you alive as you fought for your sanity.

There was no way in the world he wasn’t messing with you. He had to be. You scanned his face, searching for any sign of malice or harmful intent, but all you came up with was his gorgeously sculpted features and head of wooly brown curls.

“I’m fine, yeah,” You nodded, clearing your throat as he slowly began to pull you in his lap. Slow and deliberate, like an apex sneaking up on their next feast. His hands gradually came to rest on the back of your thighs as he positioned both of your legs on top of his slowly.

“You sure? You seem tense,” he teased, his strong and firm hands now kneading the supple flesh on your legs. “It’s okay, your made-up god isn’t watching.”

He chuckled under you, staring at the framed photo of god on your wall. He indeed was watching the pair of you, their eyes interlocking for a moment.

In a sick and almost twisted way, Luigi felt like he was above a god at that exact moment. Reducing the religious memorabilia around the living room to nothing but decoration as he cooed condescending little comments in your ear.

“Poor thing…thinks her little god is more reliable than science,” he chuckled. “So naïve. So very naïve.”

His big hands caressed the underside of your thighs, his steadily rising erection pressing against the tight fabric of his cargo shorts.

You felt it directly between the concave between your thighs; angry and insistent as it twitched and hissed in an effort to communicate with your now achy and fervent womb.

They conversed in a rampant back and forth, twitches and beats of silence while you attempted to hang on to your fleeting sense of self-control. Greedy and gluttonous, you felt your lower abdomen flutter as you struggled to look Luigi in his eyes.

“See I’d help you out…but you’re Christian, remember? Fornication is off limits” he laughed, his head knocking back as he cooed at you like some sort of idiot animal.

Reduced to silence, twitching and pulsing you were sure he could feel, you whined at his unfortunately correct words.

Chaste, innocent, and virgin as Mother Mary. Your actions weren’t your own, you swear! It was the devil that allowed Luigi to coax your hips along his bulge, the thick and twitchy mound relieving a fraction of the achy tension between your legs.

“This is…really bad—“ you panted, brows pinching together in newfound euphoria. Waves of sweet, sinful pleasure washed over you. But yet the thirst persisted; parched with stinging tears of saltwater brimming in your eyes.

“Hmm?” He hummed, rocking your hips against his more intensely. “Let me know if you want me to stop…”

The envelope was on the table. All you had to do was take it. If you really wanted him to stop, a simple “No more” would have sufficed for him.

But the words never left your lips.

They died somewhere along the disconnect in your thought process compared to your morals. What did find their way to the surface, though, was high and breathy moans as you dry-humped one of your close friends.

How shameful. Blessed be the whore that gives into the temptation of the serpent, for she knows not that she is being deceived by the work of sin.

The ebb and flow of pleasure grew painful; it wasn’t enough for you as vestality chipped away from you, the cracks of pleasure generating a slick and damp feeling in the soft pink cotton fabric of your panties.

“More, please…” you croaked, squeezing your eyes shut as Luigi used your smaller frame like a toy for his own pleasure.

“Oh, you want more now?” He cooed, turning you around so your back was pressed to his chest. “But look who’s watching you, hmm?”

He pointed at the painting of Christ, his eyes unmoving as you stared at the portrait. You whined, clamping your eyes shut to help fight the feeling of shame.

Regret and remorse were only short-lived, as before you could even process your failure to uphold your morals, large and hot hands found their way down your shorts and to your drenched folds.

“It’s ok, my dear…he can watch me appreciate his creation,” he chuckled, pushing a large finger in you slowly. Much to his surprise, he found it a little more difficult than he had anticipated.

Walls of supple and sensitive flesh refused him with rapt denial, your very own body trying its hardest to deny him entry in favor of virtue. She cried, wetting him down to the knuckle in aroused melancholy as he slowly bullied his way through the previously locked temple.

You whined, the unfamiliar and slightly painful sensation blocking your path to common sense. It felt good, but it hurt, erotic fire burned at your core as your body made clockwork of adjusting to the stretch.

“There we go,” he said, slowly dragging his finger in and out of you as you began to calm down. His free hand wrapped around you, securing you in place while his middle finger worked on plucking the stamens from your flower.

“Isn’t this so much better than religious paranoia?” He cooed, gradually gaining speed as his ring finger began to press at your entrance as well. “Deep breath for me, baby.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to scream as his ring finger pushed into you. It hurt like hell, but maybe that pain was the vengeance for disobeying the word of God.

“Fuckin…hurts!” You whined, leaning your head back into the crook of his neck.

“I know, I know, but you’ll get used to it…” he reassured, plunging his fingers in and out of you at a moderate face that had your cunt drooling into his palm.

You leaned back against him for some semblance of comfort, fisting the cotton of his shirt to self-soothe as the pain slowly began to fade away.

And when it did begin to fade, you were left with the most delicious fruit of pleasure you had ever bitten from in your life. Your eyes shot open with the intangible, over 20 years of unexplored sensations washed over you at once.

He borderline abused the spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars; thousands of cosmos you had never even thought about before.

He chuckled lowly the high and breathy moans that you rewarded him with, your nails digging into the sides of his wrists as he coaxed you into an intense orgasm.

“See, look at you…you love science, right? God wouldn’t allow you to have this, but man does…” he said, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you at the same brutal pace, even after you painted his fingers glossy white.

And he watched with rapt attention as you cried and whined in his lap. The way you attempted to squeeze your legs shut to get the achy and electric sensation to go away, wriggling around on his lap in an effort to escape the pleasure he was giving you.

He didn’t let you run, not even a little. Instead, he took the arm he had wrapped around your body and scooped your legs up by the back of the thigh, pressing you further against his chest.

“Don’t run from it…you need this with how I’ll do you later,” he warned, a cocky and knowing smirk forming on his face as he listened to you pant and moan.

That’s when he began to feel you clench and spasm around him for a second time, your tears matching your release as you wept with overstimulation.

“Good job, so so good…you did so good for me,” he praised, punctuated with a feather-light kiss to your forehead before he pulled his drenched and opalescent fingers out of you, coaxing your jaw open with his opposite hand and shoving them to the back of your throat.

His rough and lecherous ways paralleled your own in a sick and depraved way; what you lacked in experience and knowledge he picked up with action and skill. His tainted and analytical mind brushed off on yours, using your pure and sinless brain to better his own.

“Good girl,” he mused as you quietly gagged on his fingers before obediently sucking them clean. He used that allotted time to pull down both of your shorts, his grapefruit-pink tip angrily shooting up and knocking against your cunt.

You jumped, your eyes widening as you moved your head to look down, blinking away any tears that fogged your vision.

He was huge. So huge you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to fit inside of you without something or someone breaking.

“Don’t panic,” he mumbled, pulling his fingers out your mouth with an almost grotesque pop. “We’ll make it fit.”

“C’mon, I’m makin’ you watch,” He stated, grabbing the back of your neck and pushing it down slightly so you had no other choice but to watch as the shiny beads of precum fizzled from his slit and rubbed against your cunt.

The sight was dizzying in itself. He swiped himself against you, two—three…four times before he grabbed himself at the base.

“Deep breath for me, hmm?” He said, lining himself up with you while pressing his other hand over your mouth. He pushed in slowly, after all, he wasn’t a psycho.

You watched as he slowly speared you open, slowly separating you from your vestal and celibate body as he speared you open. You cried out in alarm, a sound that was swallowed by his large palm over your mouth.

“You’re okay, relax, baby, relax..” he whispered, coaxing you down further along his agonizingly long cock. He removed his hand from over your mouth, a quiet string of profanities leaving his lips as you clenched down on him.

“Relax,” he stated, a little bit more firmly. “We’re not gonna get anywhere if you won’t let me in…”

You nodded, trying your best to ease up in his lap. Luigi took that as a sign to push in at once, earning a yelp from you in the process as you began to pant heavily.

“Luigi!” You scolded, pinching his leg disapprovingly as tears stung your waterline again.

“Better to rip the bandaid off than prolong the pain” he chuckled, resting his hands on your hips to rub gentle circles on your skin.

He let enough time go by until your chest stopped staggering up and down, letting you slowly ease in his arms again before he began to piston his hips up into you slowly.

You were so gone, convulsing and moaning on him like it was the last thing you’d ever do. He took a hand back off your hips and placed it over your neck again, driving your gaze towards the sinful display as he bucked into you like an angry goat.

“Poor thing…so sensitive…” He mocked, grinning at your fucked out expression as he buried himself in your ribs. “You feel alright?”

It was too much to attempt to talk. Your eyes had clamped shut somewhere in the process, giving him frantic and tired nods as he leaned forward presumably to cage you against him further.

But that’s when your senses picked up a familiar sound.

Your rosary.

“Start praying,” he commanded, fidgeting with the beads absentmindedly.

You gasped, trying to make out any sentence you could as he brutally abused your weeping cunt.

“Start praying or I’ll stop,” He said, slowing his hips down and causing you to chant out tiny whines of “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“God is…God is our—! Oh dear..” you began, mind fogging up as you tried to squeeze out Psalm 46. “God is our refuge…and strength…”

“An ever-present help—Ah! In trouble…Therefore we will not fear—!”

He wrapped the wooden beads of prayer around your throat, the words of the lord dying in your larynx as he tugged your head back with the fever of a madman.

He was all around you; watching your every move as if surveying you from above. How ironic, the sight. The petals of your lively and gentle buds being plucked piece by piece by the hands of science.

In this sinful and dishonorable scene before him, there was no sight of a god. Only man and need as you cried and moaned around his fingers. And just like a serpent of science, testing your faith with temptation, he sunk his teeth into the side of your neck.

When you began to clench and flutter around him again, he panted, animalistic and heavy groans of his own rushing forward as he, too, began to come undone.

“Tight—! Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” He whined, listening to your loud and feminine moans as your holy-white release covered him from tip to base.

And with a few more rough and bruising thrusts straight to your cervix, he pulled out just in time to paint your stomach poltergeist-white.

You panted, whining loudly as he pulled your trembling form off of him and tossed your rosary somewhere on the couch.

“C’mon…let’s go shower”

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi Mangione my beloved #FREE MY BABY DADDY #mean luigi supremacy

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multipleoccupancy · 3 days ago

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He sensed their topic was helping her too and so Theo was comfortable in staying with it for the time being. Not realising the path he was sending Samantha down as she started to express her thoughts. She started talking about how she had been recruited and Theo paused to watch her, silent and still, worried that a single movement or too loud a breath might startle her from speaking. She never mentioned it and he later learned that it was not something that should be asked or really revealed to others.

Her story sounded harrowing though! She was almost sacrificed to hybrids? He might have never known her, she could had died and he'd have been none the wiser. He caught that disguised sob, he knew her too well now and stopped what he was doing with the net to cross the space between them and pull Samantha into a tight and protective hug.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, but I am so glad you made it out of there." He was sure to say very clearly but there was a short and quiet rasp to his voice as he was sure to hold back his tears and his horror. "We can help this guy, we'll do all we can. It's going to be ok and we'll make sure this never happens to anyone else again." He promised, or at least thought he could without the sense to remember that there was a big wide world out there with cultists lurking and waiting.

Unaware he was doing very little to settle Violet's nerves around his counterpart, Sloane kept up the act comfortably, smiling politely to the man as Violet thanked him too and then to her, still so tired and polite as she gave her own response. Oh she was very good! He'd have to tell her when they got out of ear shot!

The man returned with the key to the dorm and Sloane's ID card. "Here you go Professor Parry, Miss Parry," he said as kindly as he could, clearly trying to do his best to seem professional in the moment. In truth, Sloane thought they now had the perfect set up for him to leave unannounced in a few days, of course he would have to look after dear cold and tired little Astrid.

"Ah! Thank you," Sloane was quick to say but he took the key and card calm and polite, "You hold onto the key for me?" He offered to Violet, holding out the little door key for her to take. "Don't lose it now, be sure to hold on tight to it," he encouraged as perhaps a tired father might, not quite able to see his daughter as fifteen yet, still young and in need of encouragement. "I'll just put this back in here," he explained as he pretended to fumble around with his wallet again to put the card back in, seemingly getting frustrated and jamming it in half way before closing the wallet again.

"You've been our saviour tonight," Sloane praised the man, putting his hand back on Violet's shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell Stacey how helpful you've been, I can't thank you enough." He even let a little bit of tears flood his eyelashes without actually letting them fall. "What a nice man," he told Violet with a small smile, "let's get you set up in the room and settled in, we can take the sleeping bag from my car, it'll be like when we used to go camping, just without the mosquitoes," He gave a tired laugh and started to head back towards the door to leave. Thrilled with their performance.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Focusing on a possible solution helped Samantha, too. It kept her mind away from the plan, from her being bait. "Yes, you're right. It was probably a ritual or something of the sort. Maybe we can force him to do the reverse ritual if there's one." Oh, right. Violet had seen a woman turned into a monster. "Maybe he's hiding a monster somewhere, yes. Or maybe he's using some monster poison? Injecting it in the student's veins?"

She paused, her fingers resting on the rope. "I don't know if it works the same way, but... I saw things. Similar things. It's how I got recruited. I don't talk about it because..." Samantha looked down at the net. "It was horrible. Someone died." Her lip quivered. "It was a fertility clinic. They were making... hybrids? I don't really know. Half-monsters, half-babies. I worked there as an intern, and I had no idea this was happening. I thought it was a normal clinic. But one day, they tried to sacrifice me and another intern. They wanted to feed us to the monsters. I managed to escape, but..." The other intern was not so lucky. "I couldn't save him."

Samantha disguised a sob behind an awkward cough. "There was no turning them back, these creatures. They had never been fully human in the first place, anyway."

Violet was really very impressed by Sloane, how easily he played his part. But it was a little bit scary, too. Like with the flick of a switch, he had turned into a single dad, worried about his daughter. No wonder she always got tricked by the Sloane she knew. He didn't just disguise himself, he transformed himself.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered just as low when he offered her his lunchbox. He was expertly making their situation seem even more heartbreaking to the man behind the desk. And it worked, too, because here he was, offering them a room -the room Sloane told her would be ideal.

This little charade reminded her of how much she missed her dad and her home in New York. When her eyes got just a little bit shinier, she wasn't playing. She did feel like crying.

"Thank you so much, sir," she was sure to say with a grateful smile. And when he disappeared into the office and Sloane suggested they get McDonald's the next day, she followed his example and continued with her own part -the tired daughter. "Really? I'd like that a lot," she replied, careful not to sound too excited -this was supposed to be a consolation prize after all.

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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ducktoo · 2 days ago

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Who…are you?

LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Reader

Note: dw…it gets weird at the end lol. It's a long ride as well so get comfortable.

And this will be my final fic of 2024! Thank you everyone for liking my stuff and happy holidays! Will be back for more in mid January!

(this is too lethal-)

The sound of the door slamming shut reverberates through the apartment, rattling the picture frames on the walls. You stare at it for a long moment, your jaw tight and your hands clenching into fists at your sides. Another fight. Another evening ruined.

The quiet that follows is suffocating, a stark contrast to the venomous words Chaewon had thrown at you just minutes ago. You drag yourself to the kitchen, barely registering the cold plates of food still waiting on the counter. The dinner you had spent hours making feels like a cruel joke now. You don’t have the appetite to eat it, let alone the energy to put it away.

This is how it’s been lately. Chaewon’s words, once playful and teasing, have turned into weapons. The sharp remarks and biting sarcasm that used to make you laugh now cut you to the core. She gets angry over the smallest things, and somehow, you always end up being the target.

It wasn’t always this way—or at least, it didn’t feel like it.

You think back to a week ago, when Chaewon had been in one of her moods. You had been trying to fix the kitchen faucet, fumbling with the wrench and getting water sprayed in your face. Chaewon had walked in, leaning casually against the doorframe with that signature smirk on her face.

“Wow,” she had said, crossing her arms. “Didn’t know I was dating a plumber-in-training. Or are you auditioning for a clown role with that water trick?”

You’d forced a laugh, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Very funny, Chae. Want to help?”

She had scoffed, walking over and peering down at the mess you’d made. “Help? Why would I do that when watching you flounder is so much more entertaining?”

You had shot her a look, and she had just grinned, flicking water at you before sauntering off.

Then there was the time she’d decided to pick on your cooking.

You’d spent hours trying to make her favourite spicy rice cakes from scratch, wanting to surprise her after a long day. She had walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air dramatically.

“What’s that smell?” she had asked, wrinkling her nose. “Did something die in here?”

You’d frowned, gesturing to the pot. “It’s tteokbokki. I thought you’d like it.”

She’d leaned over the pot, taking a cautious sniff before pulling back like it had personally offended her. “Are you sure? Because it looks like a science experiment gone wrong.”

You’d tried to laugh it off, but the sting of her words had lingered long after she’d gone back to scrolling on her phone.

The teasing wasn’t just verbal, either. Chaewon had a knack for finding your weak spots and exploiting them with surgical precision. Like the time you’d tripped over the rug in the living room and spilled coffee all over your work papers.

“Nice one, Y/N,” she had said from the couch, barely looking up. “Maybe next time, try walking like a normal human instead of whatever that was.”

“I could use some help cleaning this up,” you’d said, your voice strained as you crouched to pick up the soggy papers.

She had glanced at you over the rim of her coffee mug, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Or you could just not trip next time. Problem solved.”

Despite all of it, you stayed. You told yourself it was just her personality—that she didn’t mean to hurt you. You convinced yourself that the moments of warmth, rare as they were, made up for the constant jabs. Like when she’d fallen asleep on your shoulder during a movie, her hand unconsciously clutching yours. Or the one time she’d hugged you after you’d had a particularly bad day, whispering, “I’m here,” so softly it almost didn’t feel real.

But those moments were becoming fewer and farther between, buried under the weight of her sharp words and cold demeanour.

The hours tick by as you sit at the dining table, staring at nothing. You don’t even hear the buzz of your phone at first. When it vibrates again, more insistent this time, you snap out of your daze and pick it up. The caller ID shows Kazuha’s name.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks, still hoarse from the argument.

“Y/N,” Kazuha’s voice is urgent, tinged with panic. “You need to come to the hospital. It’s Chaewon.”

Your heart stops. “What happened?”

“She got into an accident. Just… get here as fast as you can.”

The hospital is a blur of sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lights. The antiseptic smell fills your nostrils as you rush through the corridors, searching for the right room. Your chest feels tight, your breaths shallow. Kazuha meets you outside, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly.

“She’s stable,” Kazuha says quickly, trying to reassure you. “But she hit her head pretty hard. The doctors are saying she might have some memory loss.”

“Memory…loss?” The words barely register as you push past her and into the room.

Chaewon lies on the bed, her face pale and peaceful in a way that feels wrong. A bandage is wrapped around her head, a stark white contrast against her dark hair. You approach her slowly, your steps hesitant.

“Chae?” you whisper, sitting down beside her. Her lashes flutter, and she stirs slightly before her eyes open. Relief floods through you as you lean closer.

“You’re awake,” you say, your voice trembling. “Thank god. You’re okay.”

Her eyes blink slowly, focusing on you. For a moment, it feels like everything will be fine. But then her brow furrows, and she tilts her head slightly.

“Who… are you?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with confusion.

You blink, frozen in place. Her words echo in your mind: Who… are you?

Kazuha places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Y/N, let’s step outside for a moment. The doctor wants to talk to you.”

Your gaze lingers on Chaewon’s confused expression, and you force a shaky smile. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

She nods faintly, though you can tell she’s unsure why you’re even here. Her eyes flicker to Kazuha for a brief moment before she leans back against the pillows, exhaustion taking over.

Once you’re out in the hallway, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The doctor approaches, a clipboard in hand and a calm but professional demeanour.

“You must be Y/N,” he says. “I’m Dr. Park. I’ve been handling Ms. Kim's case.”

"Ah yea, evening Doc." You nod, gripping the hem of your shirt nervously. “What’s… what’s wrong with her? Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s stable,” he reassures you, glancing at his notes. “But as you might have guessed, the head trauma has caused some memory loss. From our initial tests, it appears she’s unable to recall the past two years.”

“T-two years?” You repeat, your voice trembling. You glance through the small window into her room, watching as Chaewon lies there, her face serene and unaware.

Dr. Park nods. “This type of retrograde amnesia isn’t uncommon in cases like hers. The memories she’s lost may come back over time, or they might not. For now, it’s best not to push her to remember. Stress could make her condition worse.”

“Does she know… does she know anything about me?” you ask hesitantly.

The doctor hesitates. “She remembers people and events prior to the memory gap clearly. But anyone she’s met in the last two years, including you… I’m afraid you’ll be a stranger to her.”

His words hit you harder than you expect, but you nod, trying to keep your expression neutral. “So, what should I do? How do I… help her?”

“Take things slow,” he advises. “Reintroduce yourself as someone here to support her. Let her regain her sense of normalcy first. The rest will come with time, if it’s meant to.”

You thank him quietly, your mind racing. A strange mix of relief and uncertainty bubbles within you. She doesn’t remember the fights, the sharp words, the constant tension—but she also doesn’t remember the good moments, the times when you thought there was still hope.

A part of you feels like this is a reset button, a rare chance to start over. But another part can’t shake the hollow ache of being erased from her life so completely.

You take a steadying breath before walking back into the room. Chaewon’s eyes flit to you as you enter, her expression unreadable.

“Hey,” you say softly, pulling a chair closer to her bedside.

She tilts her head, studying you carefully. “You… You’re Kazuha’s friend, right?”

You glance at Kazuha, who gives you a subtle nod of encouragement from the doorway. Turning back to Chaewon, you force a small smile. “Yeah. I’m just… here to help however I can.”

Chaewon seems to accept this, though the skepticism in her eyes remains. “Thanks, I guess,” she mutters, her voice laced with tiredness.

As she closes her eyes to rest, you lean back in the chair, letting out a slow breath. A small part of you feels lighter than you have in months. No arguments, no cutting remarks—just quiet. Peaceful, even.

But as you watch her, the weight of her blank stare still lingers in your chest. The person you love doesn’t know who you are. And yet, you can’t help but think: maybe this is a chance to show her a version of yourself she could love all over again.

For now, you let the hope settle, hidden behind the mask of quiet sadness you wear for her sake.

The week passes in a blur. Chaewon’s recovery is faster than anyone expected. Physically, she’s almost back to normal, but the gap in her memory remains. You watch her adjust to this new reality, navigating her day-to-day life with a mix of determination and frustration.

True to the doctor’s advice, you’ve been patient, reintroducing yourself as a supportive figure in her life without overwhelming her. She accepts your presence without question—polite, a little guarded, but far removed from the sharp-tongued firecracker you’ve known for so long.

Her management team decided it would be best for Chaewon to ease back into her idol activities gradually. You accompany her, not as her partner, but as someone who can help with her day-to-day needs. Kazuha and Sakura are visibly relieved to have you there, knowing how well you understand Chaewon’s habits.

On set, Chaewon is a model of professionalism. She’s diligent, respectful, and surprisingly soft-spoken. When she doesn’t understand something—a choreography move, a filming cue—she asks politely instead of figuring it out on her own like she used to.

“It’s weird,” she admits to you one evening, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. “I don’t remember the last two years, but I still know all the lyrics and choreography. It’s like muscle memory, I guess.”

You smile faintly from where you’re sitting across the room. “That’s a good thing, right? At least it’s one less thing to stress about.”

She nods, her brows furrowing. “I guess. But it feels like I’m walking into someone else’s life. Like, who was I? Was I…” She pauses, searching for the right words. “Was I any good at it?”

You hesitate, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. She was more than good—she was extraordinary. But her fiery ambition often bled into her personal life, creating the tension that had defined your relationship. Now, all you see is a softer, more vulnerable Chaewon.

“You were great,” you say finally. “Still are.”

Her lips twitch into a small smile, and for once, there’s no sharp remark to follow it.

You’re there in the background, watching as she joined with her members, laughs softly at their jokes, and engages with fans with genuine warmth. It’s such a far cry from the Chaewon who used to tease you mercilessly or snap when she was stressed.

At first, it’s disorienting.

One afternoon, as you help her organize a stack of photo cards at a fan sign event, she flashes you a small, almost shy smile.

“Thanks,” she says quietly, her tone devoid of the usual edge you once expected.

You nearly drop the cards. “No problem,” you manage, your voice awkward.

She doesn’t seem to notice, already turning back to greet the next fan with her signature smile.

Another day at their practice room, you accompany her under the pretence of helping her settle back in. The truth is, you just want to see this new side of her in action.

Chaewon seems… different. Lighter. She laughs with her members more, her usual sharp edge replaced by something softer. You watch from the corner of the practice room as she playfully ruffles Eunchae’s hair, earning a squeal of protest from the younger girl.

“Unnie, stop!” Eunchae whines, swatting Chaewon’s hand away.

Chaewon grins, her eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made your heart skip a beat. “What? I’m just making sure our maknae looks her best.”

The rest of the group chuckles, and you find yourself smiling too. It’s a scene you’d rarely witnessed before, where Chaewon seems completely at ease with herself and those around her.

During their lunch break, Kazuha sits beside you, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve been staring at her a lot.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Have I…?”

Kazuha smirks. “Yeah. You look like you’re seeing a whole new Chaewon.”

You glance at Chaewon, who’s currently chatting animatedly with Sakura and Yunjin. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly.

Kazuha’s expression softens. “It’s good, right? This version of her?”

You nod. “Yeah. It’s… it’s really good.”

By the end of the week, you’re starting to notice the cracks in your own resolve.

You don’t miss the fights—not the arguments or the hurtful words or the way she could turn a perfectly fine evening into a battlefield. What you do miss is the spark.

Chaewon’s teasing, for all its rough edges, had always carried a certain energy. There was a wit to her remarks, a confidence that made everything she said hit just the right spot between infuriating and endearing. You used to catch her smirking at you when she thought you weren’t looking, as if she enjoyed seeing how far she could push your buttons.

Now, she’s… gentle. Easy to be around. And yet, you find yourself yearning for the banter, the fire that kept you on your toes.

It’s a strange contradiction. You enjoy this new version of her, free from the biting remarks and the heavy tension that used to hang between you. But in quiet moments, when she’s busy scrolling through her phone or practicing her vocals, you find yourself wondering if she’d ever smirk at you again.

One evening, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, you’re both sitting in her apartment. Chaewon is sprawled out on the couch, her hair still damp from a quick shower. You’re at the kitchen counter, making tea.

“Y/N,” she calls out suddenly, her voice soft but clear.

You glance over. “Yeah?”

“Why do you always help me?” she asks, her tone genuinely curious.

You pause, gripping the handle of the kettle. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, sitting up. “You don’t owe me anything. But you’re always here, even when I forget things or need help with stupid stuff. It’s… nice, but I don’t get it.”

Her words catch you off guard. For a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

“I just… care,” you say finally, avoiding her gaze. “I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. When you glance at her, she’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity mixed with something softer, almost vulnerable.

“Thanks,” she says again, quieter this time.

You nod, busying yourself with the tea to hide the lump forming in your throat.

Later that night, as you lie awake on the couch, you can’t help but reflect on how far things have come—and how much has changed.

This new Chaewon is someone you could fall for all over again. She’s kinder, gentler, more open in ways you never expected. But there’s a part of you that aches for the old Chaewon too—the one who used to challenge you, frustrate you, and make you laugh in ways no one else could.

It’s a bittersweet thought, knowing you may never get her back the way she was. But as you close your eyes, you remind yourself that this is a new beginning, a chance to love her for who she is now, not who she used to be.

And as you began to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder how long this fragile peace will last.

The days slip by in a strange rhythm, where you’re never quite sure who you’ll see when you look at Chaewon.

At times, it’s like she’s still the same—sweet, easy-going, even a little shy around you. But other times, the fire you remember from before flares up unexpectedly, like a switch flipping.

You’ve gotten used to the gentle, more compliant Chaewon, the one who asks you for help with every little thing. But when her old personality slips through—when she’s sharp, playful, and downright teasing—it’s like the rug gets pulled out from under you.

One morning, you’re getting ready to leave the apartment. Chaewon is sitting on the couch, fiddling with her phone. You make your way toward the door, your keys in hand.

“Hey,” she says, her voice low and almost playful.

You stop and turn, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Her eyes glint mischievously as she leans back on the couch, crossing her arms. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered.”

Your stomach does a nervous flip. “What are you talking about?” You laugh awkwardly, glancing away.

She smirks, the old Chaewon you’ve missed suddenly making an appearance. “The way you get all nervous around me when I say things like that. It’s cute. I think I might start teasing you more.”

Your heart races, half amused and half unsettled. “Chae…” You try to act annoyed, but your tone betrays you. “You don’t even remember me. What do you mean by that?”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing with something you can’t quite read. “Maybe I don’t remember all the details, but I remember you. The guy who’s always around, always hovering, always trying to help. How could I forget you?”

Your breath catches, a flutter of hope igniting in your chest. But before you can respond, she bursts out laughing. “Just kidding, Y/N. But seriously, don’t you get it? You’re like an open book. So easy to tease.”

It feels like an old routine—one you know well. You grin despite yourself, but the warmth in your chest quickly fades into the familiar uncertainty. Was this just a moment of her old self slipping through, or was it something more?

She gets up, not waiting for an answer, her usual carefree confidence taking over once again. “You should get going. I don’t want you to be late.”

And just like that, the teasing fades, and she’s back to the softer version of herself. You stand there, still feeling the aftershock of the teasing and the warmth from that brief return to the Chaewon you used to know.

Later that week, you’re both at a recording studio for LE SSERAFIM’s comeback preparations.

Chaewon is focused on the choreography, her movements deliberate but careful. You’re sitting in the corner of the room, watching her with a quiet sense of pride, when she suddenly stumbles over a step, losing her balance for a moment.

You instinctively stand up, ready to rush over, but she waves you off with a dismissive hand. “I’m fine,” she mutters, brushing her hair out of her face. “Don’t act like you’re my manager or something.”

Your jaw tightens, the familiar spark of annoyance bubbling up inside you. “Chae, I’m just trying to help.”

She glances up at you, her expression sharp, almost a little… cruel. “Stop acting like I need you to. I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own.”

You freeze. This is the Chaewon you remember—the one who never asked for help, the one who got irritated when anyone tried to make things easier for her.

For a moment, you forget that she doesn’t remember everything, and your heart sinks. You had hoped this version of her was gone, that the softer, gentler Chaewon would be the one to stay. But here she is, slipping back into her old self, the one who pushed you away when you tried to get close.

“Okay,” you say quietly, masking the hurt in your voice. “I’ll stay out of your way then.”

You sit back down, your hands resting in your lap as the silence stretches between you. Chaewon doesn’t say anything more, but there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before.

Over the next few days, these shifts continue. Sometimes, she’s the easy-going Chaewon you’ve gotten used to—polite, soft-spoken, even a little shy in her interactions with you. Other times, she snaps, teasing you with a bite in her words that leaves you reeling, or she’ll shut down, acting distant and cold.

You can’t predict when the old Chaewon will emerge, and it’s disorienting. It’s like she’s two people, and you’re not sure which one you’re going to face each day.

But then, one evening, she surprises you again.

You’re sitting on the couch together, both too tired to say much after a long day of practice. The quiet isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy.

Chaewon’s smile widens, but it’s different this time—not as teasing or sharp. It’s softer, almost tender, like she’s rediscovering something she once knew. She leans back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, her thoughts seemingly miles away.

“I think I’m starting to remember more,” she says, her voice almost inaudible.

You freeze, a flutter of hope stirring in your chest. “Remember more?”

She looks at you, a faint smile still tugging at her lips. “Yeah. The old me. The one who used to—” Her words trail off, as if she’s still piecing things together in her mind. “Maybe I was a little too much sometimes… difficult. But I think I’m figuring out who I really am now.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. There’s something almost melancholic in the way she speaks, a quiet acknowledgment of her past, yet also a sense of self-awareness in the present.

You stay silent, watching her closely. There’s no sharp retort, no teasing grin to follow. For a moment, you just exist in this space, caught between who Chaewon was and who she’s becoming.

For a while, neither of you speaks. But you know—no matter which version of her you get, the part of her that’s still here, right now, is still the Chaewon you care about. Maybe it’s not the same, and maybe it never will be, but that doesn’t make it any less real. And for now, that’s enough.

It starts innocently enough—a rare free day where you and Chaewon decide to hang out in your apartment. She’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone, while you’re in the kitchen attempting to make lunch. Everything is blissfully normal until you hear her gasp dramatically.

“YAAAA!” she shouts, the intensity of her voice startling you so much that you nearly drop the spatula.

“What? What happened?” you ask, rushing into the living room, half-expecting to see something catastrophic.

Chaewon’s eyes narrow as she points accusingly at you with her phone. “How could you?”

You blink, utterly confused. “How could I… what?”

Her face twists in mock devastation as she waves her phone like it’s evidence in a court case. “I was looking through old photos, and you were smiling way too much in the pictures we took during my memory loss phase.”

You stare at her, waiting for the punchline, but she looks genuinely offended. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” she says, sitting up and glaring at you, “that you clearly liked her more than me. Admit it!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. “Chae, you are her. It’s literally still you.”

“But it’s not me!” she insists, crossing her arms and pouting. “That version of me was sweet and soft and totally not me. You liked her better because she wasn’t mean to you, didn’t she?”

“I—what?” you stammer, completely thrown off. “No! I mean, she was nice, sure, but I didn’t like her better! It’s the same person, Chae!”

“Liar!” she exclaims, standing up and stomping over to you. “You probably enjoyed having her dote on you, didn’t you? Bet you didn’t even miss the real me at all!”

You take a cautious step back, holding your hands up defensively. “I did miss you! And I didn’t cheat on you with... you! That doesn’t even make sense!”

Chaewon huffs, her jealousy reaching peak absurdity. “Oh, it makes perfect sense. I leave for a few weeks mentally, and you’re out here having the time of your life with some soft, clingy version of me. Unbelievable!”

She pokes your chest, her expression a mix of irritation and… something else. “Admit it! You liked how she was all shy and asked for help, didn’t you? Bet you enjoyed being the big, helpful boyfriend for once instead of dealing with me!”

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. The whole situation is so ridiculous you can’t take it seriously anymore.

“Chaewon, do you hear yourself right now? You’re jealous of yourself.”

Her cheeks flush, and she smacks your arm. “Don’t laugh! This is serious! I’m trying to have a heartfelt moment here.”

“Heartfelt?” you repeat between laughs. “You’re accusing me of emotionally cheating on you with another version of you. That’s not heartfelt—that’s a sitcom plot!”

Chaewon’s pout deepens, but there’s a hint of a smile threatening to break through her faux anger. “Well… maybe I’m a little jealous, okay? You didn’t seem to miss me as much as I thought you would.”

You sigh, shaking your head in exasperation. “Chaewon, I missed you every single day. The real you.”

Her glare falters, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she crosses her arms and looks away, pouting. “You’re just saying that to get out of trouble.”

You take a cautious step closer, tilting your head to catch her eye. “Trouble for what? Loving my girlfriend, no matter which version of her I get?”

She glances at you, her pout softening slightly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mutters under her breath.

Just as you’re about to breathe a sigh of relief, she surprises you by grabbing your shirt and pulling you down to her level. Her lips crash against yours in a kiss so sudden and intense that your brain short-circuits.

When she finally pulls away, she’s still glaring, but there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. “That’s so you don’t forget who you really belong to.”

Before you can respond, she kisses you again, her hands tangling in your hair as if staking her claim. “Chae—”

“Shut up,” she murmurs against your lips. “I’m still mad.”

You can’t help but laugh, your hands settling on her waist. “You don’t seem that mad to me.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she warns, but there’s no real heat in her voice.

By the time she lets you go, you’re both out of breath, and the tension has melted away entirely. She steps back, her arms still crossed, but there’s a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So,” you say, trying to catch your breath, “are we good now? Or should I prepare for another interrogation about cheating on you with… you?”

She rolls her eyes but leans into your chest, her head resting against you. “We’re good. But if I ever catch you looking at ‘soft Chaewon’ like that again, we’re going to have words.”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her. “Noted. But for the record, I love you—sharp edges and all.”

She looks up at you, her smile softening. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me, no matter which version of me shows up.”

Maybe you’ve been accused of cheating, maybe it’s all completely ridiculous, but in that moment, you can’t help but love her even more—especially when she’s acting like her old, impossible self.

You could probably get used to this Chaewon too.

#le sserafim #kim chaewon #chaewon #chaewon x reader #lesserafim x reader #chaewon fluff #kim chaewon x reader #izone chaewon #kpop #x reader #le sserafim fluff #le sserafim x you

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prettiestofpisces · 2 days ago

Text

juju watkins x gf!reader

synopsis: you happen to be juju’s girlfriend and lash tech

fluff✨blurb

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

as juju’s six foot two form laid on your lash bed, you sat down in your swivel chair adjacent from the girls head.

to the right of you was your lash table which held all the materials you’d possibly need for judea.

“so how have you been baby?” you say swiftly playing with juju’s ears.

although you two were newly official, you both have such a tender spot for one another.

knowing each other, growing with each other since highschool, y’all were made incredibly close over the years.

sharing a kiss or two, prolonged cuddles… your relationship was beyond affection yet nothing contained a label at the time.

that was until senior year after learning you’d both be attending southern cal, juju decided to jump the gun. asking you to prom and later on to be her girlfriend

“mmm good…” she hums with her eyes closed.

“too many promotions, practices and flights.”

now your hands caress her cheeks yet you waited to respond.

“you just want some peace and quiet, i understand baby, keep talking to me if you’d like.”

you then alert juju you’re about to start and she, unknowingly yet conscious of something near her eyes, closed them tight without saying anymore.

you pumped a light foam soap over her lashes and began swirling it in, cleansing the hairs or anything foreign.

“what about you?” she spoke out suddenly.

“hm, well i’ve been busy with few clients, classes and missing you but!.. i watched you play kansas and saw you got roughed up” you giggled.

after said, game juju sported a subtle gash on her left cheek due to brutal play. juju never complained but you knew the mark bothered her.

“you can’t tell but i’m rolling my eyes” juju says with a wide smile, following with more banter.

you let out a final chuckle before rinsing off her eyes and proceeding.

after drying you lay tape down on her bottom lashes to secure them and a large piece for your markings and mapping.

“whispy cat eye right ju?”

“yeah ma” she responds so sweetly.

a minute passes as you’re finishing up writing little numbers across the tape you’ve placed and now you’re able to begin lashing.

pluck a singular extension, dip it in glue, place it on a single lash and wait. a simple process yet very demanding.

you hum along to the rnb tunes in the background, filling the silence and soon enough, you hear the subtle snores of the girl in front of you.

as time ticks, it’s been 45 minutes and you’re finished with the left eye moving over to her right.

Please sprout, offer me your tulips

On my fate

You gon' be my blessing tonight

So keep your eyes wide…

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

and… you’re done.

slowly lifting the tape from jujus soft skin you crumble the pieces and toss them away. her sleeping form calm and content, you kiss her cheek to wake her.

“ju… baby, i’m finished” you whisper close to her ear. once her eyes flutter open you take it upon yourself to kiss her again, this time two pecks.

juju does a quick stretch of all her joints and crains her arm back hold your face against her own. turning her head to the right she embraces you both in a kiss, an oddly awkward perpendicular kiss but one with so much passion nonetheless.

after releasing, juju takes a deep breath and lets go of you all together.

“thank you” she draws out groggily. sliding off the table as you both stand up from your still positions. her tall lengthy frame towering over you like before.

juju looking rather seductive with her new stare. you stare up at her in return admiring you work, the lashes which accentuate her eyes so nicely, making your own dilate. you couldn’t help yourself.

“you’re so pretty” you squeal before juju pulls you into her chest ever so gently. loving the feeling of comfort you tighten the hug whilst still gazing at one another.

“what are you doing tonight?” your question filled with anticipation.

“staying here with you” juju harps, her blatant statement taking you by surprise yet you were more than okay with it.

“i love when you’re around.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆..°

and scene.

sorry i’ve been away, sigh..

just a sophomore in college what can i say however i hope you like this little blurb, its very rushed but i just wanted to post bc postings fun.

muah.

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nymphea0 · 2 days ago

Note

Then can I request a continuation of that oneshot with Matthias? I was wondering what their marriage life and parenthood is like. Thank you in advance!! 🥰

The Duke And His Secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story (Special Chapter).

(Warnings : Balcony mature scene at the end.)

*Minors are prohibited from reading this story🚫*

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van Ji

Word Count ; 1.395k word.

Hello this is Neva🦋, hope you have a nice and happy day, it's been a long time since I updated any story whether it's manhwa or Oc. sorry about that, I'm currently very focused on making a "supernatural" expecially Vampire character series project investigating and deepening it so that the character I make doesn't seem stiff and my darlings enjoy reading it. So heres some matthias cup of tea story (^3^), hope you like it Anon🦋, Lots of love - Neva🦋🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

- Main story : The Duke and His Secret

The residence of the Duke of Arvis, the kingdom of Berg.

The atmosphere of the residence was very cheerful, full of laughter from the 2 children of the opposite sex.

One had jet black hair like the color of a crow's feathers, with bright blue eyes like the sky. The other had snow-white hair with amethyst purple eyes.

The servants in the residence could only blush in excitement seeing the two children who were only 8 years old.

2 children, siblings, with different genders. The older brother was a man with black hair like a crow, while the younger sister, a woman with snow-colored hair.

Both of them played and ran with each other in the garden

While on the other side of the garden under the tree, there was a table with a complete set of tea and also a light side dish for the mouth that went well with tea, Pastry.

There were two women sitting there, one was no longer young, estimated to be 80 years old, while the other, still looked young but not so young, estimated to be 50 years old.

The two women were, Elysee von herhardt, and Norma Catharina Von herhardt, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, who were both watching their grandchildren.

Felix Von Herhard and Airedith Von Herhard. Felix and Aire. Siblings who were only 1 year apart. The servants said they were Irish twins. Because they were only 1 year apart.

Norma stared at the two little children playing with each other, the woman was no longer young, she felt very sad if she couldn't play with them.

While Elysee occasionally smiled and drank tea elegantly, her eyes staring towards the balcony of their manor house. There Elysee could see her affectionate son and daughter-in-law.

In fact, as Elysee remembered when Matthias brought you to the Herhardt residence for the first time, a forced marriage that made your parents agree, you really didn't like being close to Matthias, but as the saying goes, struggle will never give disappointing results. The fact that Matthias desperately shows that he does love you, sincerely even though his way at the beginning was wrong.

Slowly you accepted Matthias, he never forced you to make love or do things he wanted but you didn't like, he listened to your wishes, all your anger, even though at the beginning you were afraid Matthias would hurt you, but he didn't do that.

Matthias even went to a psychiatrist to help overcome how to eliminate apathy and grow an attitude of sympathy and become caring and willing to accept differences of opinion, rejection and so on.

There Elysee could see how Matthias kissed your cheek affectionately, if Elysee remembered again the woman wanted to laugh at how Matthias' expression said love but with a flat expression.

Like father, like child. The fruit does not fall far from the tree, that's Matthias, just like his father.

You are relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the hot spring, so warm but shady.

Down there, in the garden, you see your mother-in-law, Elysee and Matthias' grandmother, Norma, busy staring at Felix and Aire who are playing with each other, your and Matthias' children.

While your husband? Matthias, the man is busy cooing affectionately behind you, kissing your bare shoulder affectionately because you are wearing an Off-shoulder dress. Damn, this man knows the opportunity in adversity.

Many things have happened during the 9 years you have been with Matthias, you have faced the ups and downs together, but you know that Matthias wants to learn and tries to prove himself. As a result, the man becomes like a cat in heat, always wanting to be close and not wanting to be far away.

"Matty! Don't bite! Later mom and grandma will see, I'll be embarrassed"

You complain because this time Matthias bites and sips lovingly leaving a mark on your bare shoulder.

While Matthias, the man is only busy kissing, sucking your shoulder and neck, his hands also don't stay still on your thigh, stroking affectionately. Never mind that it was currently in public, but fortunately the balcony railing was 100% covered with carved marble, so the people below only saw that Matthias and you were just hugging.

"Don't refuse like that my love, it's your own fault for wearing such revealing clothes, this is called an invitation for me"

Matthias continued kissing and nuzzling your shoulder and neck.

"Felix and Aire are already 8 years old, isn't it time for them to have a new sibling?"

"No! Wait until they are 10 years old, then a new sibling"

Too bad, your husband didn't accept the rejection, instead Matthias stared with a mischievous grin.

Elysee chuckled softly at what she had just seen, causing amazement at Norma and the 2 little kids who were currently sitting in front of them, resting because they were tired of running and playing.

Norma snorted and drank her tea slowly, softly asking.

"What made you chuckle so cutely Elysee?"

Elysee just smiled shaking her head, and poked Felix's cheek which was a copy of Matthias and also rubbed Aire who was busy eating pastry.

"Nothing mom, I think we need to build another house"

Blinking one eye mischievously at her mother-in-law Norma, while Norma who was given that just laughed happily.

Wiping away tears slowly because she was tired of laughing. Norma knew exactly what Elysee meant, a new presence, a new member, Felix and Aire's future sibling.

"Well, at least our Matthias is full of energy to want to have lots of children"

The two middle-aged women laughed together, making the two little children in front of them look at each other, shake their heads slowly and just continue eating the pastry served in front of them.

On the balcony, Matthias was still busy kissing your shoulder and neck affectionately which was so tempting to his desire.

His hands were so adept at entering your lower dress, rubbing your soft thighs gently with full squeezes passion.

"Matt! Not here!"

You tried to protest Matthias, but like talking to a wall, Matthias ignored your protest.

Until his ladder slipped into your underwear, rubbing your sensitive intimate area slowly.

"Matthias!?". The more firmly you refused, the wilder Matthias became.

"What love? I know you enjoy it"

Matthias naughtily sucked your neck slowly, while his 2 fingers were busy moving back and forth in your sensitive area, so deep and expert.

You were only able to hold back your moans, afraid that a servant would pass through the balcony door or Grandma and mother would see you both suspiciously from down there, as much as possible you acted normal.

"Come on love, don't be so shy, I know you enjoy it"

Your ass was slapped lightly by Matthias deliberately full of temptation.

His hands got faster when he felt your walls squeezing his fingers.

"Want to come out love? Yes? Come to me love, came to my hands"

Until, you came hard! Both of your hands covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your eyes closed while your legs shook unable to bear the weight.

While Matthias' fingers were still busy moving slowly, down there, Matthias could feel and see the puddles of water falling. You squirted, it turned out.

Matthias chuckled softly and kissed your cheek tenderly.

Matthias passionately devours your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of your mouth. Claiming it to be his.

You who are out of breath try to pat Matthias' chest, but Matthias this man is full of passion, so you bite his lips and scratch his neck, causing blood spots on his lips and neck.

Matthias just winces softly before pulling your hair back, not too roughly but not too slowly, enough to make you look at him.

Matthias' passionate eyes stare directly at you, whispering sensually right in front of your lips, while licking the corner of your lips affectionately.

"Feels so good love? Do you want to continue here or in the room hmm?"

Damn, your fate is so unlucky to marry this shameless nobleman but god, you cant hold your heart, you love this man, as same as matthias love you.

His secret, his little heaven secret.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

#obsessed #possesive #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x darling #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #manhwa #cry or better yet beg #matthias x reader #manhwa x you #nevaerah

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doom-gender · 17 hours ago

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Cassie was cautiously optimistic after her parents invited her to the family Christmas dinner. They didn't deadname her, and they promised that "Politics wouldn't be an issue".

Cassie was a very passable trans woman, and she was dressed to the nines to see her family; just to make sure there was nothing anyone could use to make a pointed comment at her. She clacked up the walkway to the front door confidently in her heels, her dress swaying elegantly over her long strides. As she approached the door, reaching for the handle, someone inside had beaten her to it.

"Oh, hello! You must be Chris! I've heard so much about you!"

The woman that greeted Cassie at the door, with her deadname no less, had the most massive, distracting pair of boobs she had ever seen before. Cassie's eyes instantly locked on to them, unable to be torn away. The woman giggled at Cassie's helpless ogling. "Oh my, boys will be boys I guess."

A cold wave rushed over Cassie's body, the woman's words pulling on the strings of her dysphoria. She was right, it was not womanly at all to stare at a stranger's massive rack, and yet Cassie couldn't stop. She did not want to commit this obviously masculine faux pas, but she literally, physically could not help it. It's like her eyes were incapable of focusing on anything else.

"Hmm," the woman cooed. "Maybe one more will do the trick?" she said before raising her shoulders, sending the overinflated fuckmelons hanging on her chest back into another jiggling frenzy.

The cold feeling sunk deeper into Cassie, like she was about to black out; but instead of fading from consciousness, her body and mind began to shift. Her cock began to stiffen under her dress, hiking a small tent in her skirt. Quickly after, her balls (shrunken slightly from years of estrogen) began to twitch and pump, becoming fuller and fuller. Cassie's gaze was now hopelessly locked to the gargantuan titmounds, which seemed to almost be getting bigger?

New fat rippled forth under the skin of the growing breasts, while at the same time Cassie's body shifted in tandem. Her own breasts, hard earned after years of transition, began to flatten, as did her hips. Her hair began to recede back into her head, taking on a more masculine appearance and style. Her clothes crumpled and creased and then flattened into a casual pair of jeans and a tank top that hang loosely over her thin frame. It was as if the woman was absorbing Cassie's femininity to add to her absurd slutknockers.

Just as the changes began to lull, her cock strained against the now tight confines of her newly apparated jeans. Her shaft began to expand, her huge balls pumping it larger and larger; 4 inches, 5 inches, 6, 7, 8... at the same time her body began to expand, manly muscle bulking out her upper body, filling out that tank top with ease. Body hair spring forth from her chest, armpits, and cock. Her face grew a short full beard, giving her the appearance of your average jock douche. Finally, with one final pulse, her cock shoots up to 9 inches long, and her mind floods with memories of being a chauvinist, conservative, man's man. An absolute bro who has never heard words like "transfeminine" or "gender dysphoria" in their lives. Years of emotional development is overwritten in seconds, as Ca-Chris' IQ plummets to match the loss, dropping to somewhere in the range of 80 as opposed to "Cassie's" (who's that? sounds like some dumb skank) 145.

As Chris' eyes return to the world from the back of his head, the return to the woman in front of him.

"Woah." He says. "Nice cans."

The woman giggled "Thanks Chris, I'm Noel!"

Chris' parents walked up behind Noel "There's our boy! Noel here is our own Christmas miracle, once we met her we knew she could sort you straight of that trans nonsense." his father said.

"Whuh?" Chris' gaze barely escapes the pull of Noel's shoulderboulders. "What are you talkin' about Pops? I aint a fag." he said flippantly.

"You sure aren't son. We cleaned up your old room, why don't you and Noel go have some fun?" his father winked.

"Hell yeah, cmon tits." Chris grabbed Noel by the hand, dragging her off to the upstairs bedroom to break in his new monster cock.

#himbo homework #mtftm kink #mtf man #mtf boy #mtf detrans kink #mtf detrans #man up

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vijaxx · 3 days ago

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please...

summary: billie will do anything to make sure that you're feeling the best you can... which may play a part in her massive praise kink.

warnings: smut, sub!top!billie, praise, mommy kink, dom!bottom!reader, desperation, teasing, and subspace if you really truly squint.

her tongue worked furiously against your center, finding every crevice and diving into it, wanting to hear your moans. you knew her incentive, and wanting play a little game with her, stayed as quiet as you could.

billie's eyes looked up at yours, wide with insecurity at your silence, though a spark of hope bled through that maybe if she asked, you'd be louder. "m-mommy? i-is this not feeling good...?" she mumbled against your core, her pleading smile falling at the thought that she wasn't making you feel like you were on cloud nine. you were, of course, but she didn't have to know that right now.

opting to just not speak, you weaved your fingers into the sheets, a telltale sign of pleasure. billie, ever the attentive submissive, noticed, but still felt horrible. she truly thought you were unhappy with her. "m-mommy, please... i-i wanna make you feel s'good..." her eyes glossing over as she desperately tried to make you feel good, body wiggling and squirming each time she licked you, sensitive to your taste.

"a-am i too clothed...?" she asked, taking off her bra. while not the case, you did almost let a moan slip loosely at the sight of her now bare chest. it was so hard for you to contain it all as your precious baby girl was trying so hard to please her mommy.

"p-please, mommy! i-i need you so bad! i need to make you feel good, please mommy! i-i'll be the best girl in the whole world!" she cried out in broken sobs, practically losing it. her soft lips pouted and quivered, she seemed like she was so sad. your submissive little girl squirming as she ate you out, sensitive, longing, and desperate. you knew that she had so clearly been a good girl, and though she'd done nothing wrong, you decided to end this little game, putting her out of her misery.

moans quickly filled the room, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. billie, eyes wide and smile present, went back to excitedly digging her tongue back into your pussy. her tongue filling you oh so nicely as she used her pointer finger and thumb to flick and pinch your clit.

"that's it, my girl, so good!" you screamed, your hands leaving the sheets and tangling into her hair, your back arching with every kiss on your entrance and clit. your nails raked across her scalp comfortingly, helping remind her who was in charge here (though she never questioned it at all). "i-i'm trying so bad... p-please!! a-am i doing g-good...?" she sobbed with wide eyes, pleasure over taking both you and her as her nose hit your clit perfectly.

"yes, baby, so good, billie! you're such a good girl for me, such a submissive little girl who wants to make her mommy proud", you choked out, so lost in pleasure that you nearly cried. billie knew you were close, pushing her fingers into you to stretch you out just the way you needed to be.

drunk on your praise the the overwhelming feeling and taste of you, came with your permission. after a few "thank you mommy!!"s, her cute cotton pink and white striped panties were utterly ruined. "c-can i take these off, mommy?" she pleaded, but the idea that she'd have to sit all day in her own cum made you closer to the edge, "no, baby girl. you're dealing with the consequences of cumming in your panties".

once reaching your high and falling down hard, you looked at billie. the precious girl had your cum on her chin, cheeks, nose, and lips, looking up at you with her big, innocent eyes, her peach lips swollen from hours of nonstop use on you.

"you did such a good job, baby girl. such a good girl for me."

a/n: i wrote this earlier today but tumblr didn't save it, so with the help of screenshots and a lil pizzaz, here you go! after being inactive for several months, i am very much back online here. lmk what you think of this, and if you have any req or just want to talk, i'm so open :)

-vijaxx

#billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x reader #billie x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #sub!top!billie #subillie #sub!billie #dom!bottom!reader #dom!reader

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myebi · 21 hours ago

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art vs artist 2024 ✨ can't believe we're here!

i've been thinking about this year a little bit these past few days, with the holidays being under special circumstances for me. the past month passed quickly but very gently, which I'm grateful for all things considered. i think it's now safe to say that after some reflecting 2024 was one of - if not the - best year of my life. I've never experienced such a whirlwind of gratifying experiences in the span of twelve months: i met so many new and nice people, had my first con experiences in amazing settings and my first job opportunities in a field i wanted an experience in for a long time, traveled the world somehow, got 10x more attached to my characters than i already was - and I'm quitting the year with just as many projects as i did when i entered it. granted, new problems came up and still persist, but with every year that passes i get one step to catching up with the anxiety and fears that hold me back, and it's that one step that each time allows me to surpass fear and welcome something new. every leap of faith partially led to the beautiful things i experienced throughout the year like a ripple effect (partially). it's gratifying and humbling in equal measure. so cool!!

art wise, i'm a lot more satisfied with the direction my art is taking than i used to be in the past two years. i came up with brush settings that shifted my line dynamic and i discovered a new rendering technique i really enjoy that allows me to balance time-efficient with textured together. i think my art has been getting a lot more expressive and while sometimes it makes me feel like I'm straying away from a more sanitized, thought through illustrative style, maybe it's worth it for the feelings to be conveyed the way i want them to. i haven't gotten to a point where i'm experimenting with my shapes, compositions and palettes in a way that shakes up my habits in a good way, but I'll get there.

I've also come to realize while making the meme that i actually have very few finalized personal works to show this year! i made most of my personal work posts on a time rush (they usually were made for specific days). I've been working on a set of drawings that required some tweaking and a few days to sketch properly, but the result is worth it, I'm so proud of them!! i wanted to get them out before the NY but it convinced me that rendering had to take its time as well, i don't always want to rush things nowadays. being on a time limit and taking all the time necessary are both good drawing exercises nonetheless.

lots of rambling, but i had lots of thoughts. I'm so grateful that some people are still in my life as we inch toward the new year. to my moulin squad, to my tol staw, to all the new friends i made this year, to my kitty, to my family. i love you like the world. and of course, to all the people who follow my work from up close or from afar, thank you so much. to know i bring a bit of inspiration, thought and color into your day has a lot more worth to me than you can imagine. thank you for manifesting your interest and your support whenever you do!! 🙏

i hope you all have safe and healthy holidays 💛 drive safely and tell your loved ones you love them. my thoughts are with Ukraine and the people of Palestine.

#art vs artist #art v artist #art vs artist 2024 #artvsartist2024 #french art #french artwork #french illustrator #french illustration #myeart #art summary #2024 art summary

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monsterdoll14 · 2 days ago

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I wrote something for this! Beneath the cut so it’s not a giant block on somebody’s page. But it really liked this idea! @beneathsilverstars

You're sitting in your car, staring at a clock with all the power your, admittedly tiny, body possesses. You said you would arrive at her house at four, but you showed up at three thirty! Which is way too early to show up at someone's house so they could drink your blood, are you crazy? Madam Odile was going to think you were so weird, stars!

You take a deep breath in, and out. You repeat the motion two more times as you wait for the clock to tick. Two minutes to four o’clock, and maybe it was okay to show up a minute earlier but what if it wasn't!? You couldn't risk that! She might refuse to drink your blood if you offended her, and then you wouldn't get paid and then you couldn't pay rent…

Okay, you could wait two more minutes. You glance at the clock again, and it's already 4:03. Where have you been the past five minutes?!

You jump out the car, steady yourself, and hurry towards the front door.

“Donating” blood to vampires for money is a pretty common practice, since they usually pay pretty well and don't need to take too much blood. You can donate a couple times a month without any major health issues . Plus, with agencies dedicated to organizing blood matches between humans and vampires, it's not a particularly dangerous job. It's also proven to be the only job you can keep.

Of course it is, though. You're a human blood bag. There's not much to screw up as long as you stay still and don't act like a creep.

The match you're currently freaking out about is with a middle aged woman named Odile, who seemed decently wealthy by the size of her house and the fact she can afford rent in this economy. You envy her the tiniest bit about that last one.

She opened the door, looking exactly the same as her photos, and you smile at her.

“Nice to meet you! I'm Siffrin, I'm your donor for today!” Customer service mode, on!

She gives you a quick once over before nodding at something and moving to let you in, “Odile. Please come in.”

You hop over the doorway and carefully take off your shoes before you follow her to her couch. Thank the stars, you didn't really feel comfortable anywhere else. Bedroom was… weird, and the kitchen felt like you were just a piece of meat. Not that that was particularly inaccurate, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling bad about it.

You sit on the couch where Odile gestures for you and take off your gloves. They are kinda scratchy, but you don't want to have to deal with strangers giving you weird looks about the marks lining your wrist. Odile doesn't comment on them, which is yet another win!

“So, how would you like to–”

“One moment.” Odile holds up a hand and walks away. You sit awkwardly on the couch, gloves off, waiting for her. Your skin starts to crawl a bit. She wasn't just going to leave you here,be right? You couldn't possibly have screwed up already. Unless he saw the marks on your wrist and thought you were some sort of weirdo who enjoyed getting bitten by vampires–oh, stars, what if she thought you were some sort of perverted creep? Should you leave? What if–

“Alright, I'm back. Is apple juice ok? I don't have any iron supplements, that was thoughtless of me. My apologies.”

Uh. you… didn't usually get something to drink when you did this..? You kept stuff in your car since you tended to get kicked out the moment you were finished. You could hardly blame any of those people, you didn't like strangers in your house either. Even if you did tend to need to wait alone in your car until you weren't woozy anymore, and your heating/cooling systems gave out a while ago…

Crab, you forgot to respond, “that's fine! Uh, thank you!”

Odile nods and makes her way over to you, setting the glass on a coaster on the table. She sits a bit away from you, which is appreciated but also slightly disappointing. You offer her your wrist. Better not to give her an option in case she tries your neck. The last time someone did that it was… a lot of touch from a stranger,

She takes it carefully in her hand, and you flinch a bit. She's holding you so, so carefully it's almost ticklish. She pauses, long enough for you to recollect yourself.

“Have you washed your hands?” she asks. Pretty common question, should not make you feel as dirty as it does.

“Yes ma’am.” You watch as she nods, mostly to herself, then sinks her teeth into your vein. You flinch again but she holds your wrist just firmly enough that the skin doesn't tear on her fangs. Thank the universe, you could not bleed all over her furniture. You didn't even have a couch at your house, but you knew how expensive they were. You wait, perfectly still even when you start to get a bit dizzy, enjoying the gentle touch on your wrists and odd intoxicated feeling you got whenever a vampire bites you.

… Which is disgusting, you shouldn't feel that way. This was a business transaction, stop being weird. It wasn't meant to be pleasant.

Odile finishes surprisingly quickly, pulling off and pressing a black towel to your wrist. You take it from there, holding the towel with one hand as you eye your apple juice. You definitely want a drink now, but you don't know when she’s going to ask you to leave.

She nudges it towards you, and you carefully accept. Geez, she didn't take much, but you've already donated a couple times this month. You feel woozier than usual.

“You should wait an hour or two before you leave,” Odile comments, standing and walking out, “it'll be late then, but I don't have anything to give you for dinner, as you can imagine. I hope you don't mind.”

An hour… or two? The longest you usually even needed was thirty minutes. Was this Odile’s first time doing this? But you can't imagine she was turned recently if she didn't bother keeping food in the house. Not to mention the illegal nature of being turned in the first place. It still happened, but it wasn't very common? Most were just born vampires these days.

“Well?” Odile's standing in front of you, stars! You needed to stop zoning out! What did she even say…?

“Yes, ma’am,” you mumble, hoping it's the right answer. There's no adverse response, so you think it's probably fine? She sits on an armchair next to you, far enough away that she couldn't grab you but close enough that she can watch you comfortably. She takes out a book and begins to read, and you sip your apple juice in bafflement. What was she even doing? …did she want seconds?

… You don't think you have it in you to give any more blood tonight. If she asks, you don't think you can really refuse, but you really don't want to. You reach for your gloves.

“Don't you need bandages?” she asks, arching her eyebrows.

You pause, gloves in hand, and need a second before you can fully process what she said, “not… really? I don't have any on hand, anyway.” You slump a little at the effort it takes to form coherent responses; which is probably cause for concern. Geez, you're tired.

“Hm. I'll remember next time, then.” Ah, so she was a repeat customer. You got those sometimes, but they usually didn't linger for fear of forming an actual connection with a human of all things. There's another pause before Odile speaks again, “why are you doing this? So often, too.”

That was a question you received pretty often, even from the quietest of vampires. To be fair, Odile didn't seem chatty to be exact, but apparently she had a curious streak.

“Well… the pay is good,” you tell her, cradling your drink. And it's the only way anyone will ever touch me, remains unsaid.

“Hm. money problems, then?” she asks, tone distant. Seems like she's already lost interest. You zone out a bit, then realize you should probably say something in response.

“...I've got plenty in the bank, just not the blood kind” you mumble, not particularly paying attention.

Odile laughs.

…

…oh!

You made her laugh!

A dazed smile makes its way onto your face. You feel warm, and there are little fireworks in your stomach because you made her laugh! This means she definitely doesn't hate you, right? Sure, she was gentle earlier, but that's a bit of a requirement with the more finicky veins. Can't have you bleeding out and ruining her nice furniture. But! You made her laugh! So even if she thinks you're gross for being this desperate for money, she probably doesn't hate you too much!

… or does she? Maybe this time was just a fluke. You should probably try again so you can be extra sure she doesn't hate you. Just in case. Something about blood, or banks, or vampires… but what if you offended her!? Most vampires didn't like your jokes!

You should be a little more vague. Just to be safe.

“Um, how many apples grow on a tree?” you ask, gesturing to your drink a bit. Odile gives you a confused look.

“Pardon?”

“All of them!” you tell her, grinning. She purses her lips, but doesnt look particularly annoyed. More confused, which was not the reaction you were going for.

“I… see.”

Quick, try again, “sorry, I tried to make a joke, but there were no fruits to my labor!”

Odile snorts at that one, turning the page of her book, “I see. You poor thing.”

You giggle, and she shakes her head at your next few attempts to make her laugh. Regardless, an hour later you're feeling much better and leave. You don't even have to sit in your car very long before you feel safe to drive, which is good because the cold has gotten a lot worse over the past few days. You should start carrying heat pads.

I continued this on AO3 with the name “Damothgremlin” in case you’re interested! It’s called In Blood Bags And Time.

thinkign about odile with fangies,,

au where odile is a vampire and siffrin "donates blood" for money (classic occupation for someone lonely and hopeless) and siffrin says something funny while woozily recovering and odile did NOT expect that from him and laughs and siffrin is like. oh fuck yes i'm getting a good grade in being vampire food.

it's not even a purposeful dumb joke he's just a little out of it and saying things. which odile usually gets annoyed when people go all no-filter and say things to her that she is not interested in hearing or god forbid having to respond to. but siffrin is just being cute and earnest and still not too chatty!

and then siffrin is like I MADE HER LSUGH I HAVE TO KEEP BEING FUNNY and his actual attempts at jokes are so weak that they wrap back around to being entertaining. odiles like mhm im sure there was a joke in there somewhere maybe try again in twenty minutes.

they're going through an agency at first, but odile gets annoyed at how large of a cut the agency takes, but it's easier and safer than trying to arrange something with a stranger independently. but she really likes siffrin so after a couple times she's like. no pressure but if you'd rather get paid a little more we could just continue doing this informally. and siffrin is like YES PLEASE bc they really need the money and they like odile too!

but then siffrin starts donating too much blood bc he's still going through the agency as often as allowed And going to odile independently. it's pretty obvious pretty quickly though, and as soon as she catches on odile lectures them and says she won't keep doing this if siffrin won't take care of themself, and siffrin gets all sad (<- hates to be rejected) and is like oh.. ok.. guess i'll leave... and odile is like oh my god no you still have to drink your orange juice first and you should not have even driven HERE in the first place. *i* will drive you home. which has siffrin all ?? bc wow mixed messages (<- has never been cared about before). but odile finds out that siffrin lives in the shittiest apartment ever and is always this close away from getting evicted and long story short siffrin ends up moving in with odile.

odile is like. well. this is kind of a problematic setup but definitely better than the alternative.

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thezombieprostitute · 2 days ago

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Taking Care of You

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: hot chocolate/apple cider/tea and a nice book

Warnings: Implied smut, Language, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I'm missing any!

Series Masterlist

You were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, alternating between watching the snow fall and reading your book while drinking cider made from the apples you and Steve had picked earlier in the year. Back before you knew you were pregnant.

Your smile widens at the memory of Steve trying to tell you about it. That it was the reason he'd been in such a territorial, protective mood. You weren't upset with him but you did ask about a pregnancy test or two to confirm. He understood and not only got you the pregnancy tests but also got you a doctor appointment to confirm. Sure enough, you were about a month along then.

Since then Steve has been going into overdrive to make sure you and the baby are safe and comfortable. Emphasis on the comfortable. You never thought you'd go for the kind of man that takes care of almost literally everything for you, but Steve might be changing your mind on that. He somehow manages to be around all the time without feeling suffocating. Even when you go into town together and he's in full on guard mode. If anything, his caring, protective side just makes your hormones go even more out of control.

As if on cue, Steve comes into the living room from his workshop. He's been working on a handmade crib for the little one, insisting he wants the pup to be surrounded by familial scents. He must have worked up a sweat because his shirt is off and you lick your lips at his exposed torso. You gently squeeze your thighs together and he gives you a knowing look.

"Does my girl need some attention?" he almost growls.

"Please, Steve," you whine.

"Tell me what you need, Doll."

"I need you to fuck me, Steve," you whimper. "I need you to fill my pussy with your cock, please!"

Steve's pupils are blown as he starts unwrapping you from your blankets. "It'll cost you, you know."

"What's the price?" you moan. The blankets are off and his hands are pushing down your sweatpants.

"First I get to eat your pussy like it's my last meal."

A shiver runs down your spine as you whimper, "yes, please."

You're woken up by the sound of Steve's voice. You feel a slight pressure on your stomach and, after blinking a few times, you realize Steve is talking to the small bump created by the baby.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he confesses to the baby bump. "But I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and your mama are safe and happy." He pauses for a few moments. "That being said, we gotta have a talk about your eating habits. I get that you want a lot of protein but you need to let Mama eat some vegetables. You both need the nutrients. It can't be steak, pork chops, and ham all the time. Though you do seem to accept soups and stir fry. Maybe Mama can teach me how to make those so she can rest some more. Don't think I haven't noticed how tired she's gotten. Seriously, you gotta let her eat some veggies."

His one-sided conversation is interrupted by your giggles.

"Excuse you," he playfully chides, "I'm having a conversation here."

"You're talking to my belly," you counter.

"I'm talking to our baby, thank you."

You both smile softly when he says that. You gesture for him to move in close for a kiss and he acquiesces.

"And I know you're going to be a great dad," you assure him, making his cheeks turn pink.

"We won't know for certain until the baby is here."

"Trust me," you hug him. "You're already working hard to make sure this baby has a great start in life. You've even been reaching out to other werewolves, something you've never done before, just to ask about things for me and the baby. You swallowed your pride for us. That's no small endeavor."

Steve nuzzles his beard against your neck. "Thank you for giving me a much better, richer life than I ever thought I'd get."

"My pleasure, Steve."

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#navy and roo's sleepover #werewolf!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #werewolf au #steve rogers x female!reader #werewolf!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x pregnant!reader

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keeryhours · 13 hours ago

Text

fall in love again - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x female ex wife! reader

Summary:

Steve comes over to spend Christmas Eve with his ex wife and their three kids.

Warnings:

Dad!Steve, Mom!reader, talk of divorce, kissing

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N:

This is late for Christmas but I hope you enjoy this short little Christmas story anyway!! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for making the best banners and also being my bestie ily

—

“Alex, stop shaking the presents! You have to wait until tomorrow just like everyone else!”

Your 7 year old son groaned but put the gift down, flopping down on the couch with a huff. “You’re no fun.”

“You’re the one trying to ruin the surprise,” you pointed out, going back into the kitchen and taking the cookies out of the oven. You went to lift Madelyn, your 2 year old, from her high chair when a tiny tornado came tearing through the kitchen.

“I didn’t snoop,” Lena, your 5 year old, said, reaching for one of the hot cookies before you lightly swatted her hand away.

“No touching, they have to cool.” Maddie on your hip, you flitted around the kitchen, gathering the supplies to decorate the cookies. “Dad’s gonna be here any minute now.”

Lena did a little dance and Alex cheered from the living room. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile - Dad was always a hit, you were pretty sure they’d never been this excited for you to show up.

You and Steve had been separated for almost a year now. You still got along pretty well and co-parenting was going well so far. This would be your first Christmas apart, so Steve was coming over to spend the night for the kids.

The doorbell rang as you were setting up the different colors of icing. “I’ll get it!” Alex and Lena called at the same time, fighting over each other to get to the door first.

They must have eventually made it to the door because you heard it open before another wave of noise hit as the kids no doubt jumped into their father’s arms, Steve swinging them around like they weighed nothing. “Where’s your mom?” you heard through the noise of giggles.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Alex said.

“Making cookies for Santa,” Lena added.

Three sets of footsteps headed down the hall and then the commotion was exploding back into the kitchen.

“Are they cooled yet?” Lena whined, pulling on your sweater as she eyed the cookies on the tray.

“Almost,” you answered, switching Madelyn to the other hip. But as soon as she spotted Steve, she was reaching for him.

“Dada!” She called, tiny fists grabbing towards her father. Steve smiled, taking her from your aching arms.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, tickling her tummy and making her laugh. “You all ready for Santa to come?”

Madelyn giggled again, although she still didn’t quite understand the whole Christmas thing yet. You checked the cookies, seeing they were cool enough to start decorating.

“You guys ready to decorate?” You asked, and the kids started dancing around before you even got the sentence out.

“I’m doing reindeer,” Lena announced, pulling a chair over to the counter and climbing onto it.

“I’m doing Santa Claus, so I’ll be the favorite and get the best toys,” Alex said, looking at his sister with a smug look on his face.

Lena turned to you and Steve. “That’s not fair!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, bud,” Steve said, ruffling Alex’s hair. “Pretty sure you all made the nice list this year…somehow.”

“Hey!” Alex and Lena said at the same time, fake offended expressions turning into giggles. They each grabbed their icing bags and started decorating the cookies. You and Steve watched, Madelyn peering over their shoulders to watch them work.

Once your little artists were done with their cookies, the five of you shared some, being sure to save plenty for Santa. Then you all piled on the couch in the living room to watch Christmas movies.

Madelyn was put to bed after the first movie. Alex and Lena passed out 2 ½ movies in, and you and Steve carried them to their bedrooms. Once they were safely tucked in bed, you and Steve returned to the living room, flopping on the couch.

Steve put an arm around your shoulders, and for a minute you could pretend that nothing had changed. The absence of the ring on your left hand told a different story.

“I’ve missed you guys,” Steve admitted, his head resting on top of yours. It was intimate, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“We’ve missed you too,” you said honestly. The kids had missed Steve terribly, asking about him at bedtime every night and sometimes even crying for him after bed. It made you feel horrible. You missed him, too, especially when you were laying in bed alone at night.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know why we’re doing this.”

You looked up at him. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted to spend the night for the kids?”

“No, not that. Of course I want to be here. I just meant…” he let out a long sigh again. “Why are we going through with this divorce?”

You were silent. It was a question you’d asked yourself countless times. You didn’t want to divorce Steve. But for the past few years it had been nothing but constant arguing.

“You know why,” you said, your voice small. No conviction behind it.

“Look, I’ve been thinking,” Steve said, looking down at his hands intertwined together. “I’ll go to couples counseling with you. I’ll do whatever you want. I just want to work things out with you, okay? I’m not ready to let this relationship go. I’m not ready to let our family go.”

You looked over at your ex husband to see him staring right back at you, emotions swirling behind his brown eyes. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean it,” Steve said with a small laugh, taking both your hands in his. “I want to be with you, and I’ll do anything to make it happen.”

You felt yourself soften at his words. You had been trying to convince Steve to go to counseling with you for ages, but he always said he didn’t see the point. You truly felt like it could help you through some of your communication issues and get rid of those stupid constant fights for good. “I’m…really happy to hear you say that, Steve. I didn’t want to throw our family away either. I miss you. The kids miss you.”

At the mention of his kids, Steve’s expression turned sad. “I’ve been an idiot. I feel like this is all my fault. They go to sleep at night sad and confused and it’s all because of me.”

You wanted to comfort him, but you weren’t sure what to say. You leaned your head against his shoulder instead, enjoying being close to him again. “They’d be thrilled if you came home.”

Steve was quiet for a minute. He had been crashing between Eddie’s and Robin’s places. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“You know, be happy if I came home,” Steve said, his voice small and unsure of himself and completely unlike him.

You intertwined your fingers with his. “I would be. I…miss you more than you know.”

Steve smiled softly. He placed his fingers gently on your jawline, turning your head to face him. He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, until you felt the soft plush of his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed and you felt butterflies in your stomach like you were back in high school again, not two grown (separated) adults with three kids asleep upstairs. You liked the way it made you feel.

You tangled your hands in Steve’s hair while his rested on your hips, pulling each other closer and closer while your lips frantically worked together like you only had so much time together.

“Mommy, have you seen-“

You and Steve jumped apart at the voice, both turning to see Lena standing there rubbing her wide eyes, her comfort blanket in hand.

“Is- is everything okay, baby?” You asked once you had found your voice.

A smile slowly grew across her lips. “Yessss. I’ll…leave you two to it.” She turned around and sprinted back up the steps with a giggle. When she reached the top, you heard her loudly whispering, “Alex, mom and dad were kissing!”

You covered your red face with a hand, stifling your laughter. Steve was less embarrassed, chuckling to himself as you heard the kids creep to the landing to eavesdrop.

“We have an audience now,” you whispered to Steve, amused grin still on your lips.

“I think they’re pretty happy about it,” Steve said quietly back, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips. You heard both kids gasp and giggle again.

“Does this mean you’re back together?” Alex called from the stairs.

“Go back to bed!” You and Steve called at the same time.

You were met with a grumble of Fines and the shuffle of small footsteps back to their bedrooms. You and Steve looked at each other - and busted out laughing again.

“I guess we have some explaining to do in the morning,” you said, shaking your head. Steve held your left hand in his.

“I guess we do,” he said. “Maybe you could put your ring back on for the occasion?”

#steve #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #joe keery #keeryhours writes #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine

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